An enormous floral arrangement was delivered to the house that afternoon with a note from Lord Chilcott.
For Lady Lavender,
Thank you for encouraging me to be a better man.
Love,
Lord Chilcott
Lavender’s first thought was to burn the note. But she didn’t. She set it beneath the vase instead and left the peace offering on the small table in the entryway. She’d seen how the baron used his words to manipulate people. She’d heard him slander other people when they weren’t present. She might be a good influence on him, but she still did not trust him. That was something he would have to earn.
She was in a foul mood. Miriam hadn’t told her anything more about Savannah’s arrival to the house than Jack had, and even less about Tom. It was possible that Jack had been mistaken in who pulled her from the street. Apparently, a handful of servants from the duke’s household were there at the time. Not only that, she’d asked to see Tom, but Miriam had strictly forbidden it under the pretense that she didn’t want Lavender to catch a cold. It was rubbish, but she couldn’t figure out why Miriam was acting so oddly about the whole thing. It wasn’t like Lavender hadn’t visited someone with a cold before.
One thing was clear. She would not be seeing Tom. She found herself praying over his health whenever there was a spare moment. No illness that came on that suddenly was to be taken lightly. So she appealed to the Most High.
She hated not seeing Tom and was grateful for the natural barrier between them all at once. Her desire to help him warred with her sense of self-preservation. She knew that spending more time with him was a bad idea, and it wasn’t because of a cold. Her heart was his, and in the garden, she’d as much as told him so. She secluded herself in the duke’s library and thought about Tom’s last words to her. Fenleigh has an incredible library.
Did Tom really believe that the lost duke would be a good match for her? He’d mentioned it more than once. Despite the duke’s less than pristine reputation, he still suggested it. She knew Tom had feelings for her. Whether they ran as deep as hers did for him was up for debate, but his pronouncement about Lord Fenleigh had been rushed, almost panicked. It had also been sincere.
Since she wasn’t allowed to see Tom, her thoughts continued to stray to what he’d asked of her: to give Lord Fenleigh a chance if she met him. She didn’t necessarily care to meet another man, but she was curious.
She’d overheard information about the lost duke the entirety of her Season thus far, and nothing seemed like helpful information regarding the treason accusation. Miss Dalrymple had all but ignored Lavender since she’d proven her ineptitude at helping find information. Did Lord Chilcott know more than he was letting on? The missing duke was his favorite topic of conversation. Maybe it was time she started engaging in it more.
Lord Chilcott joined Lavender, Miriam, and Samuel for supper that evening. He was quieter than he typically was, and he asked Lavender all sorts of questions about her family and the book she was reading. He didn’t pretend to have read it this time, and the conversation was—for the first time in their acquaintance—pleasant. It was a good show of faith that he was trying to change.
After supper, Miriam and Lavender waited in the drawing room for the men to finish their port. Miriam took Lavender’s hand in hers. “Lord Chilcott is showing you quite marked attention.”
Lavender only nodded.
“Ought I to encourage him?”
“He is the only gentleman who has paid me special attention thus far. Perhaps I ought to encourage him more. My father isn’t getting any better, as my mother reminds me every few days.” The weight of each letter she received from Gardner Manor piled weight onto her soul.
Miriam let go of Lavender’s hand and put her hands on her hips. “That is not love. That is surrender. I would be wary of him if I were you.”
“I don’t have any other choice in suitors, do I?”
Miriam clenched her mouth closed, but Lavender was certain she wanted to say something.
The gentlemen joined them a moment later, and Lord Chilcott claimed Lavender’s hand to take a walk in the garden. Jack accompanied them outside. When they came to the swing, Lord Chilcott smiled like a child. “Would you like a push, my lady?”
Lavender felt like she wanted to vomit. “No, thank you.” She couldn’t allow this man to taint her memories of this swing. “The swing was made for the children.”
“Yes, but it’s sturdy, and it would fit you nicely.” He raked his gaze over her form, and she looked away.
“Let’s walk this way. I can show you the roses.” She led him further down the garden path to where a hedge of roses grew on each side of them leading to a statue of a lion. It was here that she was stung by the bee. Where Tom had found her in her distress. She forced herself to push the thought from her mind and faced Lord Chilcott. “How goes your search for the lost duke?”
Lord Chilcott’s mouth pressed into a firm line. “I’m afraid I gave fifty pounds to a liar and a drunk. But the novelty of the event has at least made more people excited about bringing me information.”
“Perhaps I can help you sort through your information. Would that be helpful?”
He smiled at her. “I’d welcome your help. You have a quick mind, no matter what Miss Dalrymple says.”
Lavender’s head jerked back. “Oh, and what does Miss Dalrymple say?”
Lord Chilcott laughed. “Nothing true. Only that she believes you stay away from large groups because your mind is slow.”
“How kind of her,” Lavender replied, drily. Perhaps Miss Dalrymple’s aspersions on her intelligence might have hurt her when she still thought they might be friends, but Lavender found her only emotion was slight annoyance. It seemed their families were just as divided as they ever were. Either way, Lavender changed the subject back to the subject of the lost duke, a safer topic that she knew would keep Chilcott occupied and serve as a distraction for her own whirling emotions “I believe we are attending the theatre tomorrow evening. I’ll see what I can glean about the missing duke, and we can discuss it later on.”