The conversation lulled, and Mina glanced at her and Phoebe, though she would find no assistance from the latter, and the former hadn’t the slightest notion what to say: she didn’t wish to lengthen the conversation with Mr. Godwin.
“Have you read Bathurst’s sermons?” blurted Mina. “I recently studied several and found his observations about prayerquite intriguing. I am not certain I agree with all his assertions, but they left me with much to ponder.”
“He is a good man,” said Mr. Godwin with a smile, tucking his hands behind him. “I knew the fellow at university, and he possesses a keen intellect. Definitely one who challenges another’s understanding.”
And with little prodding, the gentleman rambled on about Mr. Bathurst’s ideas and their time at university, all sprinkled with never-ending praise of the tutors and headmasters, his family, and his patron (and anyone who had ever spoken to the Whitcombes). Thea offered the occasional word, though Phoebe remained silent.
Glancing between her cousin and Mr. Godwin, she couldn’t say whether Mina’s attention was due to her kind spirit or if there was genuine interest growing on her part. Hopefully, it was the former. Though Thea tried to embrace the virtue of patience, the gentleman was excessively irritating.
With wickedness or villainy, such behaviors had clear indicators and could be more easily identified, which was the first step in shoring up a weakness (assuming one was self-aware enough to do so). Yet one’s likability wasn’t a moralistic failing or even a clearly quantifiable quality, as it varied greatly from audience to audience. After all, what was irritating to one person may not be to another—as was evident from the fact that Mina wasn’t the slightest bit put off by Mr. Godwin’s behavior.
Thankfully, a savior in a tailcoat appeared to rescue the others.
“I do hate to interrupt,” said Mr. Winwood, slipping into the conversation with all the ease of one who was quite comfortable in any crowd. Bestowing them with a smile that couldn’t help but add to their own, the gentleman looked at Phoebe. “I was hoping I might have a word with Miss Voss.”
Chapter 13
“She is in the middle of a conversation at present, which you interrupted—no matter how much you hate doing so,” said Mr. Godwin in a flat tone.
Mr. Winwood winced and clapped the gentleman on the shoulder, causing the clergyman to stumble a step. “Yes, but as you are a rector, you are well-versed in granting forgiveness, are you not? And I fear I couldn’t wait another moment. The mummer’s play is about to begin, and I didn’t want to miss the opportunity to escort our dear Miss Voss to her seat.”
Phoebe’s countenance brightened, and her hold on Thea’s arm tightened a touch, though she immediately abandoned it in favor of Mr. Winwood’s when he offered his up.
“Do excuse me, ladies, Mr. Godwin,” she said, giving them each a nod before allowing Mr. Winwood to escort her away.
With a flourish, the gentleman held up his rose to her. “I do hope you will accept my flower, Miss Voss.”
“After that rescue, I wouldn’t dare reject it,” murmured Phoebe—though not quietly enough, for Mr. Godwin’s expression tightened—though the lady did not notice as she wandered away. Before Thea could think of how to excuse that misstep, Mina gave the clergyman an encouraging smile.
“You were saying?” she prodded.
“I was?” The gentleman’s brow furrowed, though it cleared in a trice. “Ah, yes, Miss Ashbrook—”
“There you are,” said Mr. Timothy Voss, stepping into the space his sister had abandoned. “I have been looking high and low for you, Miss Ashbrook.”
Thea managed not to scoff. Though it was difficult. They hadn’t moved one inch since the gentleman left to fetch Mina a drink—and he had returned empty-handed—though Thea had spied him chatting up several other ladies in the gathering.
“I believe you promised to join me for the play, my good lady,” said Mr. Voss with overdone elegance. “A friend of mine is saving us seats.”
Mina’s mouth opened and closed several times before she silently did as bidden, her eyes turning to Thea, though it wasn’t clear what she wished her cousin to do. Either Mina had promised, or Mr. Voss was taking liberties. If it was the former, then there was nothing to be done about it. If it was the latter, it was for Mina to speak out.
Thea’s heart opened in prayer, hoping that the lady would do just that, but for all of her cousin’s many good traits, Mina was too soft-spoken. And she simply followed Mr. Voss away.
“Do excuse me, Miss Keats,” said Mr. Godwin, giving her a bow before leaving Thea to herself. Looking this way and that, she spied the various groups and couples drifting toward the makeshift stage where the actors were readying themselves for the coming frivolity.
And Frederick was nowhere in sight.
*
Fools came in all varieties, though Frederick had never counted himself among them.
Of course, some in Haverford thought him quite foolish, but they believed his teasing smiles and quick wit were the whole of him, never understanding that one could play the part at times without truly being one. But he couldn’t blame them entirely. He rather enjoyed it when people underestimated him, and it came in handy from time to time, but only because he wasn’t truly a fool.
Yet standing there in the midst of the parish feast revelries, Frederick knew he was a fool of the highest order.
Doubly so because it was only now that he realized Thea’s ribbon remained at home on his bed. The rose rested heavily on his lapel, mocking him. He ought to take the blasted thing off, for at least then, it would look as though he had forgotten the whole tradition, and not just the most important part. But there was no way to do so without bringing attention to his mistake. Where was his head?
The laughter around him was a cacophony, the talk a jumble of sport, business, and the promise of a fine summer. He nodded when expected, even managed the occasional murmur of agreement, but his thoughts were back at Dunsby Hall and the unanswered letters piling upon his father’s desk.
