Chapter Eighteen
Pauline hammered on the door to the library. “Miss Francine, come quick!”
I lurched to my feet. My ankle throbbed, but it was nothing alongside the torpor in which I’d spent most of the morning. I unlocked and opened the library door.
Pauline stood on the threshold with a smile overflowing her round cheeks. Her breast rose and fell violently with the force of her breaths. She must have run from downstairs. She grabbed my hand and tugged me after her. “Come along.”
“Why?”
At the top of the stairs, she turned to me, a twinkle in her eye. “A gentleman awaits you in the parlor.”
I reeled. She caught me when I swayed. She urged me to descend the stairs with her. “Hurry,” she said.
Within moments, we reached the bottom of the stairs. She pushed me into the threshold of the doorway, a bit too enthusiastically, if you asked me. I nearly fell, but I caught myself against the wall. My heart pounded.
Upon seeing me, Sir Scandent stood, a smile capping his face. “Miss Annesley. I hadn’t expected to see you today.”
“Scandent?” Belatedly, I realized that I’d called him by his nickname. At least he didn’t know enough about plants to realize the moniker wasn’t a flattering one.
I stepped into the room—after all, now that I’d made my presence known, I couldn’t very well escape to the library—but stopped short. I frowned. “I beg your pardon. If you hadn’t expected to see me, why are you here?”
Papa jostled me from behind as he entered the room. “Francine? I thought you said your leg was giving you grief.”
“I did—it is.” My head spun.
Papa had already pushed my presence aside in his mind. He greeted Scandent with open arms. “Trentham! Sorry to keep you waiting. Grimsby should have shown you right to my study. Come this way.”
My stomach sank into my toes as I realized why Scandent had called today. He was going to ask Papa for my hand. He could have no other reason for calling when my family was in such disgrace. This was what my salvation looked like. The sick feeling in my stomach intensified. I feared I might lose my lunch all over the parlor. I shied back as Scandent strode forward to follow my father from the room. Our gazes locked as he came abreast of me.
“I hope to speak to you again later.” His words were perfectly proper, but his leer and his tone told of promises I didn’t intend to honor.
I ran. As fast and as far away as possible. My ankle screamed in pain, but I pushed on anyway. When the haze of emotion clouding my vision lifted, I found myself in front of the hothouse. I opened the doors and slipped inside.
The humidity caressed me first, like a warm friend enclosing me in a hug. Tears clung to my eyelashes. I held them in. If I broke down now, I didn’t know if I could pull myself together again, and I had a party at Rose’s house to attend. I gulped for air as I crossed to the workbench.
The damned moon orchid had wilted. Brown tinged the edges of its leaves. The flower had shriveled.
I pressed my hands to my stomach. What was I doing with my life? I couldn’t even care for an orchid. I didn’t want to see the disappointment in Mother’s eyes if I had to ask her for a second clipping. My botanical achievements, those were the one thing we had always seen eye to eye on. How had I made such a mess of things?
I curled both my hands around the pot. The impulse surged, almost overwhelming, to break it against the floor. If the flower wanted to act melodramatic, then so would I. But that wouldn’t solve anything. At the end of the day, it was still a flower. Its future, and mine, looked dim.
…
“Perhaps I should leave.”
I’d expected Rose’s garden party to be bearable, considering that my dear friend was the hostess and the party took place in her garden. However, I’d underestimated the viciousness of my peers. It seemed the lot of them had attended to gawk and gossip about me. When I attempted to make polite conversation, they pretended not to hear. Except as a spectacle, I was utterly invisible.
Rose seemed to walk around with a constant furrow between her eyebrows. She repeatedly rested her palm against her abdomen while making polite talk and no matter who spoke with her, she never offered them her genuine smile. She was worried.
Still, she said, “Don’t. Stay another hour. It’s good for you to be seen in public.”
Otherwise, it looked as though I was ashamed of my actions. The guests gathered no doubt believed that I should be. What business of theirs was it what I chose to do with my body, so long as nobody got hurt?
I sounded like Mary. Worse, I feared she was right about the course that the scandal would take. With my disgrace, Mary became more popular with the matrons and debutantes. Those who would have treated her with wariness or open disapproval now greeted her with a smile. Did that mean that, once some other unfortunate woman stepped a foot off the proper path, my sins would be absolved? I liked my solitude. Not to mention, I didn’t regret it.
My gaze gravitated toward Julian, who helped himself to the buffet table Rose had set up next to the back door to her townhouse. The Hartfell garden was even smaller than the square plot in the back of my townhouse; once Julian added enough to his plate, he didn’t have far to retreat before he found a seat on a stone bench along the far hedge. He met my gaze as he sat. Raising an eyebrow, he pointedly placed his plate next to him, as if reserving the seat for me.
I turned to Rose. “I don’t want my unpopularity to reflect poorly on you.”
She smiled tightly, but it didn’t quite hide the shadow of fear in her eyes. “It won’t. Don’t say such ridiculous things. I invited you here because you have my full support. You’re my friend.”
She was my friend. In her place, my loyalty wouldn’t have waivered for an instant, but Rose cared a lot more for appearances than me or Mary did. She might be adamant now over her friendship, but she had to think about more than herself and her husband now. She had a baby on the way, and as ludicrous as it was, Rose’s actions and popularity as the mother would reflect on her son or daughter. Was I more important to Rose than her child?
If I thought any longer on the future, I’d give myself a headache. Instead of arguing, I capitulated. “I’ll stay for an hour, no longer.”
“Good. Why don’t you tell the guests about the plants I keep? Heaven knows you know more about them than I do.” Rose tried to infuse her voice with joviality, but it fell flat.
I doubted I sounded any better as I made an empty promise to do just that thing. As we parted ways for the moment, Julian caught my eye. Still alone in the corner, still awaiting my company. Gladly, I slipped away to move beside him. He removed the plate as I drew near.
I planted myself on the bench next to him. As I leaned back and stretched my ankle out in front of me, he offered the plate. “Are you hungry?”
I shook my head. “No, thank you.”
He balanced it on his knee instead. “Me neither, to be honest. It gives the illusion that I’m occupied, however.”
I studied those gathered. Twenty or thirty people, all crammed into this space, most standing and gossiping. They cast frequent glances in our direction. “You’re being given the cut direct, too?”
I hadn’t anticipated that. Weren’t men held to a different standard than women?
He shrugged. “It’s not as bad as with you, I imagine. I do thank my luck that Alyssa didn’t accompany me to London, however. I imagine my conduct would reflect poorly on her and cause her further grief.” His expression was neutral, but I noticed a tightness in his lips that bespoke of regret.
“You care for her.” Speaking the words out loud cut me like a knife. I tried not to show it.
He looked at me with surprise. “Alyssa? I told you—”
“You told me that you didn’t love her, and that might be true. But you care for her, I can see it.”
He stared at the contents of his plate. “I suppose I do. We’ve always been friends. Not like you and me, but friends. She’s endured more than anyone should have to.”
In a way, we were going to voluntarily endure the same hardship. Neither Julian nor I would die, but it would amount to the same pain. I didn’t know whether it was better or worse that he was destined to marry a woman he got along with and respected.
I picked at the wrinkles in my skirt, smoothing them. “Why did you come to London? You never said.” Would it have been easier if he’d stayed in Leicestershire?
But then I would never have known what it was like to kiss him, to be held in his arms. We would never have made amends over his prolonged silence. No, I wouldn’t trade these past few days for anything. Not even my untarnished reputation.
Julian shrugged. “Mother was adamant I see London once before I’m married. I’m not sure why.”
Smiling, I teased, “You mean all the soot in the air hasn’t captured your heart?”
“The lack of plants,” he countered with a smirk.
“The traffic.”
“The lack of stars at night.”
“The constant press of bodies.” I shook my head. “Seems to me the country is much preferable.”
Upon meeting my gaze, his smile faded. “There’s one thing the country doesn’t have.”
“What is that?”
“You.”
My lips parted, but I didn’t know what to say. I stole a tart from his plate to buy me a minute to think and regain control over my emotions. After a moment, I confessed in a whisper, “I wish things were different.” I love you. I didn’t dare speak those words out loud in public.
The back of his hand brushed against mine, sending a tingle of awareness up my arm before he retreated to a proper distance once more. A distance we would have to maintain for the rest of our lives.