Page 8 of The Earl and His Lady

Virginia watched as the matron’s expression went from politely pleasant to pure joy. Those who knew her well knew that Mrs. Gilbert adored her flower beds and orangery more than anything. Virginia thought only Christine’s love of horses came close to Mrs. Gilbert’s dedication to her beautiful blooms and soil beds, yet it had taken her nearly a month of being in the home to discover how deep the attachment went.

“It is positively the envy of the neighborhood,” the woman answered proudly. “My roses are already bursting out everywhere, like fireworks. Now that I know you are home, I will send some to you.”

“The big yellow blossoms, if they are ready,” he said. “My mother always had them in our entry and it wouldn’t be right to go without them.”

The older woman’s cheeks pinked and she nodded her agreement. “Yes, Pamela did always like those. I made a present of a cutting for her once, but she claimed hers never blossomed as mine did. I cannot think why.”

“Because she did not pour half so much care into them,” the earl answered. “My mother’s great love is being a hostess, not a horticulturist.”

“And she excels at that,” Mrs. Gilbert answered. “Her parties are talked of, before and after, as the highlight of everyone’s year. How is Lady Pamela?”

Virginia listened politely as she drank her tea, noting her cousin and Thomas had collected themselves and both were intent on their teacups and sandwiches. She turned her attention back to the earl, who was speaking of his family in warm tones.

She really had not expected him to be so young. The way Thomas and Christine spoke of him, with such gratitude and admiration, she had pictured someone older, with gray in his hair. But Lord Calvert, Earl of Annesbury, didn’t have any silver to be seen. His hair was more like burnished gold, cut close in the Roman style. He held himself well and she imagined he would fit with the Corinthian set if he were just a few years younger. The first thing that struck her, when he entered the parlor earlier, was his height. She thought he must be of a height with her late husband, though with wider shoulders.

There was no other comparison to make between the two. Where her Charles had been dark, Lord Calvert was fair. His eyes were blue-gray, and his bearing full of confidence. He was a man who knew his worth to society and wore his consequence with ease. Did anything ever unsettle him? She couldn’t think so.

He caught her looking and she resisted the desire to look away. Instead, Virginia smiled and tried to remember what they had been talking about. But he spoke first.

“Lady Heatherton, I had the good fortune to meet your sons. They look to be very bright lads. What are their ages?”

“Phillip is six,” she answered, surprised he would bother to ask. “And Edward is halfway to five. They are wonderfully bright, I think, though I have a bias as their mother.”

“Nonsense,” Thomas said from the sofa where he and Christine sat, holding hands. “I cannot think I was half so clever. Phillip has a good head on his shoulders. He was telling me about the life cycle of the frogs in my fishing pond.”

Virginia’s heart swelled and she smiled at him. “Thank you for taking him fishing yesterday. He talked of nothing else last night or this morning, until the horses were brought up.”

“Fishing cannot hold a candle to riding,” Christine interjected with a lofty air and everyone in the room laughed.

Virginia attempted to keep her attention in the present moment, but her mind continually turned to the letter from Mr. Olivier. She lost the thread of the conversation, staring out the window without seeing the lush gardens humming full of bees.

“—wouldn’t you say, Lady Heatherton?” Christine’s voice asked.

“I beg your pardon?” Virginia turned to find all in the room with eyes upon her, including Lord Calvert’s. “I am terribly sorry. I’m very dull company today. My thoughts are elsewhere.”

Mrs. Gilbert reached out and put her hand on Virginia’s arm, giving her a sympathetic pat. “You are perfect company, my dear. Christine appealed to your taste for riding upon horses or in boats.”

Grateful for the understanding, Virginia allowed herself to smile and answer the question. “I am afraid I much prefer a rowboat on a pond to a side-saddle.”

“But would you do the rowing?” the earl asked.

Virginia turned to Lord Calvert, her brows drawing together. What sort of a question was that to put to a lady? She started to answer in the negative, but then considered again her situation. She had no gentleman to row her upon a pond, as her husband had done in the summers before his illness overtook him. Soon enough, she would have only herself to rely on. She could not depend upon the hospitality of the Gilbert family forever.

“I would.” She met his blue-gray gaze steadily. “I have always loved being on the water. If the only way to achieve that is to take up an oar, I will certainly do so.”

The earl regarded her with a contemplative expression. “Should you and your sons wish it, my property is nearby and we have a substantial lake for rowing, fishing, and the study of frogs.”

Was he teasing her, or extending a true invitation? Whatever the case, Virginia responded appropriately.

“Thank you, my lord. That is kind of you.”

The door to the parlor opened with a crash and little Edward came flying across the room. “I didn’t do it, Mama! I didn’t.” He launched himself from the carpet into her arms and not a moment later Phillip came storming into the room as well.

“Mother, Edward broke my horse.” Phillip brandished a three-legged wooden horse, gifted to him from Christine. He had hardly let the toy out of his sight since receiving it.

“Oh, darling.” Virginia, her arms around Edward, looked from her elder son to the other adults in the room. “Please, forgive us for the disruption.”

“Nonsense,” Mrs. Gilbert said, her warm brown eyes softening in a distinctly maternal way. “Tend to your children, my dear.”