“I need to rejoin my guests.” Nat stood, with Oliver following close behind. “Why don’t you go home? I’ll make your excuses for you and see that your mother gets home. You can call on Miss Childs in a day or two and make another attempt at an apology.”
Oliver felt the tension leave his shoulders. He would have to face her, but not today. “Thank you, Nat.”
His brother-in-law opened the door, but did not step through. “If you are going to kiss her, apologize first. You are less likely to receive a well-deserved blackened eye.” And with that, he was gone.
Oliver ran both hands down his face before he let out a long breath and fled the room. Not wanting to be spotted by anyone at the picnic, he slipped down the servants’ stairs and out the kitchen doors. It was not until he was marching past the pond that sat on the border of Blackthorne Park and Aston Lodge that he realized he’d left his horse in Nat’s stables.
Chapter Seven
Thegreencountrysidegaveway to more and more settlements as Kitty half-listened to Lady Sampson talk about her son David and his wife, who were expecting their second child. Though the physician was beginning to suspect twins. A fact that only reminded Kitty of the people they’d just left in Hampshire. Returning to London held no appeal, but she was grateful to leave Whickfield behind. Or one of its residents, at least. The rest of her stay had been absolutely lovely. If too short.
Their original itinerary had called for leaving Arbor Hill on the Monday after the picnic. But they’d returned home from Aston Lodge to find a letter from Lord Sampson. He had received a dinner invitation for Monday evening from a potential political ally. Though he could attend without his wife, everyone knew it would be better if she attended. So their plans changed, and they left the morning after the ill-fated picnic.
It was now late Saturday afternoon, and Kitty found herself only a short time from facing her mother again. Which felt only marginally more appealing than turning around and facing Oliver Linfield.
Two full days since their argument at Arbor Hill, her anger still simmered beneath the surface. Yes, he had apologized. But then he’dturned around and accused her of being two-faced. Did he not realize that nearly everyone wore a mask of some sort to protect themselves from society? He himself had been totally different in the circulating library as compared to the dinner at Arbor Hill. Which brought her to the second reason for her anger.
Kitty had enjoyed their time in the circulating library. She could not remember having such a pleasant conversation with a gentleman since her father passed away when she was eighteen. He had asked her questions, as well as answered her own. It had been a true discussion, and not a lecture or an attempt to show his superior intelligence.
At the time, Kitty had envied her friend’s good fortune in marrying a man who would treat a young woman as an intellectual equal. She craved more of such conversations. A lifetime of them. Which left her angry with herself, as well as Oliver Linfield.
Kitty would not, could not, develop a tendre for a man she could not trust. And Oliver Linfield had proved himself just as duplicitous as he had accused her of being. And if the rumors of his finances held any truth, she could not trust his motives if he were to try befriending her. No, leaving Hampshire was for the best. Even if it meant returning to London.
“I hope you enjoyed your respite from Town,” Lady Sampson spoke as the carriage turned onto a familiar road in London.
Kitty turned from the window and faced her gracious hostess. “I don’t know how I can ever thank you for asking me to join you.”
The baroness waved her hand dismissively. “It was a mutually beneficial arrangement. I thoroughly enjoyed getting to know you better, and I look forward to your company in the future.”
“As do I, my lady,” Kitty replied as they pulled up in front of the familiar four-story building.
The front door opened, and both footmen stepped out. The one walked to the back of the carriage to retrieve Kitty’s trunk, while the other handed her down.
After bidding farewell to Lady Sampson, Kitty walked up her front steps and paused before going through the door. She was not sure what to expect. Was her mother angry with her for fleeing to the countryside? Had she arranged for more introductions with unappealing gentlemen? There was only one way to find out.
Within moments of stepping into the front entrance, her mother ran out of the drawing room and pulled Kitty into a firm embrace. “You are home!”
Kitty stood frozen, not sure how to react to the unexpected display of affection.
Mrs. Childs released Kitty and took a step back. “Well, when will he arrive?”
Her mind racing, looking for an explanation, Kitty slowly asked, “When will who arrive?”
Her mother’s face broke into a grin so wide that Kitty momentarily wondered if her cheeks hurt. “Why, Mr. Linfield, of course.”
Kitty blinked twice as her mother’s words sank in. Finally, she asked, “Mr. Oliver Linfield?”
“The very one!”
Priscilla Childs was well-known for her erratic behavior. And yet, Kitty had never been so confused in her entire life. Was her mother even aware that Kitty had interacted with Oliver Linfield since their introduction? She thought through the twoletters she’d sent from Arbor Hill. The first was a simple note letting her mother know they’d arrived safely. The second was primarily about tea at the vicarage. Kitty was not even sure if she’d mentioned Arabella’s name, or if she’d simply referred to her as “the vicar’s wife.” She was absolutely certain she’d not mentioned the vicar’s brother.
“Is there a reason you expect Mr. Linfield to visit us in London?” Kitty could not for the life of her think of one. The man was likely happily ensconced in his library in Hampshire, grateful to be rid of her.
The smile on her mother’s face had not decreased in the slightest. “To ask for my blessing. Why else?”
“Your…blessing?” Kitty choked out the word.
“I received a letter from Mrs. Brewton just this morning about your interlude at the picnic.” Her mother waggled her eyebrows in a most nauseating fashion. “I assumed that Mr. Linfield would follow close behind to settle your engagement.”
