“No, but Sam and his wife will be leaving after Twelfth Night so that they can return before the sugar harvest is complete and I may ask them to take me along.”
Twelfth Night did not leave him much time.
“Then you will not be here for the Season,” he realized.
“Not that it matters. Nobody ever asks me to dance anyway.” She issued that parting barb as she reached the door and stepped outside.
Percy only shook his head and watched her walk away. He had chased her enough for one afternoon. He would see her again at dinner and then determine his next course of action.
But one thing was certain. He would stop her from boarding a ship to Barbados and if that didn’t work, he would go with her.
Eight
While Deborah was thankful that Percy did not follow her again, she admitted to being a little disappointed.
He had certainly been intent on speaking with her, which made her wonder at his true intentions when his questions were barely what one would ask in a polite conversation with someone who was little more than an acquaintance.
Polite!
Did he fear that because of their past she would make this holiday difficult and wanted to be assured that they were still friends?
And why had Danby rejected him. Not that Percy had asked to court her or anything. He had only wanted a dance but Danby discouraged him because he lived in Wales.
The argument did not hold up because Danby would not care about something so insignificant when he was eager to see his great-nieces and nephews married and settled. Which could only mean one thing—Danby had already decided on a husband for her who was likely soon to arrive at Danby Castle, where she would not be, and thus rejected anyone else, even if they only sought a dance.
Deborah blew out a sigh and settled at the dressing table to do something with her hair before supper. Her going from room to room and crossing the terrace three times had dampened the curls and she was not certain she could repair them.
It would be easier to just pull her hair back in a chignon and forget about it, except, with Percy here, she wanted to make certain that every hair was in place and that she wore only her most attractive dresses.
She wanted him to regret his leaving her without saying goodbye. It was a matter of pride after all.
He certainly did not need to use any effort to be attractive. Even when his hair was mussed, which it often was because he had the habit of pushing his fingers through it while he thought, or paced, or became frustrated. She’d once told him that he shouldn’t even bother brushing it in the morning because it would be a mess again before he finished breaking his fast.
She smiled at the memory of how he had tried to go all day without touching his hair and had failed before supper was placed on the table.
Deborah quickly chastised herself. She’d not revisit fond memories until she knew what he was about.
With that thought, she twisted her long hair behind her head then shoved pins in to keep it held in place and ignored the shorter curls that escaped.
She then pulled a light blue dress from the armoire. It was satisfactory, and not as flattering as others she had brought, but she did not want Percy to think that she was making any effort on his behalf, which she was not. Deborah then pinched her cheeks and made her way down to the parlor where everybody had gathered for dinner.
Upon entering the room, she paused and glanced about. No matter how much she told herself that it did not matter if she gained Percy’s attention, deep down she wanted it, or at least wanted him to regret rejecting her, but had to reluctantly admit that there was competition from the five Simpson sisters. All were quite lovely if not beautiful.
Was Percy interested in courting one of them and was that the true reason he had been invited?
Her stomach tightened at such unpleasant thoughts but he was currently engaged in conversation with Damaris, the third sister, only three years younger than him.
Deborah supposed that she should speak with someone instead of standing awkwardly in the doorway, and then spied two of the invited bachelors, Mr. Alden Knight and Lord Augustus Tilson, both already known to her through Peter, standing not so far away and in a discussion about horses, if she heard correctly.
She smiled and glided toward them and if Percy happened to become jealous, then she would have no objection.
When she reached the gentlemen, she turned just enough to notice the frown of irritation on Percy's face before he returned his attention to Damaris.
If he was jealous, could there still be hope?
Deborah quickly and silently chastised herself. It would do no good to hope when Percy had already decided that she was no more than a friend.
Blast him!
