Page 66 of Courting the Country Miss

“The purple one, miss?” asked the maid.

“Yes, the purple one will do.”

She buttoned the rich plum pelisse trimmed with gold cord that Aunt Alice had insisted on buying for her. After selecting a simple, understated bonnet, and picking up her kid gloves and reticule, she glanced in the mirror one last time. Her cheeks bloomed with more color than usual, as if she were feverish. Who would have thought kissing Tristan would have thrown her into such a state?

A footman appeared. “Lord Bradbury to see you, miss.”

“Tell him I’ll be right down.”

She took a steadying breath, shutting out all thoughts of Tristan. Instead, she brought to mind Lord Bradbury’s handsome face, the blueness of his eyes and the way they crinkled at the corners when he smiled. With a regal carriage that would have pleased Aunt Alice, Leticia descended the stairs, gliding one hand along the railing.

Lord Bradbury waited in the foyer, examining a painting. His tall, lean form, so fashionable in the clothing styles of the day, brought a smile to her lips. It was odd, really, how things had progressed between them in so short a time. She’d seen him every day this week. If that didn’t qualify as courting, what did? Courted by a viscount. She almost laughed. Who would have thought that it would happen to a simple country miss? Her parents would be in raptures.

Leticia reached the bottom step and crossed the floor to him. “Lord Bradbury.”

He turned with a smile that softened imposing features. “Miss Wentworth, you are a bright spot in my day.”

She curtsied. With an impish playfulness she asked, “Oh? Difficult day at the House?”

“Not at all. However, the day has notably improved.” He lifted her hand to his lips.

Startled that he’d kissed her hand before she’d had a chance to put her gloves on, she withdrew from his touch. Gentlemen didn’t usually go around kissing ladies’ hands unless they had some sort of understanding…unless, of course, people did things differently in London than in the country. Though Lord Bradbury hadn’t done anything shockingly wrong, it still seemed improper. Forward. Shallow. When Tristan had kissed her hand and held it to his cheek, there had been such sincerity, such need.

Of course, he suffered from a blow to his head, so she’d be a fool to read more into that than existed. There she went again, thinking of the wrong man.

After pulling on her gloves and bonnet, she took Lord Bradbury’s arm and let him lead her to his waiting coach. A fine family crest adorned the door of the older but beautifully maintained landau.

“It’s a lovely day for having the hood down.” She smiled up at him.

“Yes, fortunately for us, there have been a few rare sunny days despite these strange, cold temperatures. I wished to take advantage of today’s fine weather.” He helped her in and swung up beside her with practiced ease. The liveried driver snapped the reins and they were off.

They chatted like old friends and she had the distinct impression that she’d known him for years—perhaps it sprang from his resemblance in manner to Richard.

Inside Cleveland House, they read about exhibits and Lord Bradbury told her about the ones on loan from Egypt, his animated expression endearing. He hadn’t shown that much spark about anything else. As she strolled along on his arm, she caught several admiring glances cast by other women nearby. She wanted to smile smugly and walk a little taller. Still, his handsome looks and charm and title were all superficial reasons to want to be with him. She liked him. He was kind and attentive. She imagined marrying him and spending her days with him, cozying up by a fire reading or talking. A life of safety and comfort lay down that path. He’d even shown support for the school, so her cause didn’t seem to bother him. Could she really educate the children and have a home and family of her own, too?

After a few hours, they found a bench and rested. He turned to her. “I’ve made arrangements to have that pianoforte shipped to your school but it may be a few weeks before it arrives.”

“Oh! That’s so very generous of you. How can I ever thank you?”

“Your smile is thanks enough.”

She looked down. How could such a perfect man have come into her life?

“Is anything on your mind, Miss Wentworth?”

She looked up into his kind face in surprise. “Am I poor company?”

“Not at all but you’re not quite as lively as usual.” He paused. “I heard about the mishap with Mr. Barrett. Is that what ails you?”

The terror that had paralyzed her as she’d watched him fly over the horses and land in a broken heap overcame her again. She fisted her hands. “A frightening experience, to be sure, but he’s conscious now.”

“You’re close friends, as I understand?”

“Yes, I’ve known him all my life. We played together as children.” She winced. Discussing Tristan with Lord Bradbury felt wrong somehow, as if it were too intimate a subject.

“Is there anything more?”

“Between us? Oh, no. We’re friends.” Her face heated as their accidental kiss, and their not-so-accidental kiss, invaded her mind. Shockwaves shot straight down to her toes from the memory.