Page 9 of Courting the Country Miss

Who would have thought she’d become friends with the very girl whose actions had torn Richard away from her? Still, she couldn’t truly blame Elizabeth; Tristan’s allure had spiraled into the stuff of legends. Few could resist his shocking good looks and silver tongue. The scoundrel.

Then again, no one knew the real Tristan, not the way Leticia did. Why did that knowledge make her feel smug?

Isabella and Maranda came in together, both fresh and bright as spring daisies. The one Wentworth daughter blessed with raven hair, Isabella wore it down in long curls in the back with the sides swept back, and it showered in glorious array around her trim figure. Two years Isabella’s junior, Maranda had tried to duplicate Isabella’s coiffure, but her lighter brown hair lacked the thickness to succeed. The youngest sister of the Wentworth brood, Maranda had come out this week, a maneuver Leticia suspected had more to do with allowing her to attend this house party with the family than her age. Beforehand, Maranda had shed stormy tears about being left behind. Though Mama worried the family would receive criticism for having three daughters out at the same time, no one had voiced disapproval.

Leticia exchanged greetings with her sisters as they served themselves from the dishes laid out on the sideboard table. Other guests entered, their chattering filling the breakfast room and ending any personal conversation. While the others gossiped, Leticia fell silent, content to listen.

Maranda blurted out, “Mama, why can’t I go to London, too? I don’t expect to do everything with you; I know it’s Isabella’s moment to shine so I won’t expect to attend all the balls and soirees as she, but I cannot abide remaining behind in the country while the rest of you go off and enjoy all those parties and soirees musicales and everything else without me.”

Leticia and Isabella smiled at each other over Maranda’s head. Isabella held up three fingers. She had wagered Maranda would bring up that old complaint during the house party at least five times. Leticia had hoped her youngest sister would be mature enough to limit her complaints to two.

Mama patted Maranda’s hand and cast a meaningful look at the others filling the breakfast room. “For now, rest assured, you shall not be abandoned.”

“But—”

Mama raised her hand. “That’s all I will say on the matter for now.”

Maranda opened her mouth again but Leticia sent her a quelling look. Maranda closed her mouth with a snap and sat pouting. “I always get left behind.”

“Not for this house party, you didn’t,” Leticia reminded her.

Maranda sighed. “True. That would have been intolerable.”

A footman walked by with a steaming pot in one hand. “Chocolate, anyone?”

Maranda perked up. “Yes, please.”

Her mood brightened by the cup of chocolate, she clearly forgot her pique and began conversing with the others again.

Leticia smiled at Isabella again, then excused herself from breakfast and went off in search of Elizabeth whom she hadn’t yet seen this morn. An early riser, Elizabeth had probably gone for a walk. Or maybe she’d wandered into the music room where a harp resided. As Leticia meandered through the rooms, the faint, heavenly strains of a harp sang to her as sweetly as a dream. A pity her family didn’t own one; Leticia had always wanted to learn to play but harps were far too extravagant a purchase. She’d had to make do on their old pianoforte.

Following the sweet strains, Leticia pushed open a door to the drawing room partitioned off to make a smaller music room.

Elizabeth painted a lovely picture, her graceful hands fluttering over the harp strings, her face serene. Her emerald morning gown swept around her, moving as her feet made adjustments to the pedals at the base of the harp each time she played an accidental or key change. Leticia stilled, hardly daring to breathe lest she give away her presence. Leaning against the doorframe, Leticia closed her eyes and immersed herself in the music, imagining a garden where fairies danced with butterflies and flowers nodded in approval.

The music stopped. Elizabeth’s voice rang with surprise. “Leticia. I didn’t hear you come in.”

Opening her eyes, Leticia smiled. “I knew you’d stop if I gave away my presence.”

Her cheeks pink, Elizabeth moved the pedals into their natural position and leaned the harp forward until it rested on its feet. Standing, she shook her head. “Shame on you for eavesdropping.”

“I’ve never met anyone with a worse case of stage fright—which is a pity considering your remarkable talent. In all those soirees musicales I attend, I seldom hear anyone play with as much proficiency or emotion as you.”

Elizabeth’s mouth lifted on one side but her gaze lowered as if she didn’t believe Leticia. She stood. “How kind of you to say. Pray, tell me what brings you to me, besides the call of my ‘considerable talent,’ that is?”

“I wondered if you’d received a reply to any of the letters you sent.”

“Not since you asked me last night.” Elizabeth’s mouth curved into a gentle, teasing smile.

Leticia laughed at herself. “Of course not. Perhaps we should see if Lord Ellerton or Mrs. Bateford are still entertaining the idea of lending their support.”

“I mentioned it to Lord Ellerton last night, but he failed to commit. I asked Richard to give him a nudge. We ought to seek out Mrs. Bateford. She seemed interested.”

“I saw her at breakfast, so I know she’s arisen.”

“Perhaps we can invite her to take a turn about the gardens this morning.” Elizabeth tapped her lower lip with a finger. “Then again, she may feel overwhelmed by us both. She is a bit of a recluse. I can’t imagine how the Colonel and his wife coaxed her to attend the house party. Should I speak with her alone, or do you wish to?”

“You seem to have a better rapport with her than I.”