Once quiet was restored, Cousin Agnes asked him, “Are you enjoying your stay in the country, my lord? I hope you are being well entertained by our neighbors.”
Without waiting for a response she nodded her head as though agreeing with herself—the lace ends of her cap brushing her shoulders as her head moved—and added, “Though it is winter, you should not want for entertainment. Why, I heard Lady Glendowie held a recital just last week.”
Ria almost choked at the thought of the rakish earl, perfectly at home in a licentious masquerade, attending a prim-and-proper country concert.
To his credit, he kept his composure as he smoothly replied, “I have not attended many social events in the area, but if you need an escort I would be happy to oblige.”
Ria was very tempted to accept his offer and let him suffer through what to someone of his disposition would surely be torture. But in view of her need to limit contact with him, she instead told him, “Thank you, my lord, for the kind offer. As I mentioned the other day, we do not go out in company.”
“Please do excuse me. I assumed that by now you would be attending small private parties with your friends and neighbors.” He turned and looked at the ladies. “Perhaps the other ladies may wish to do so?”
Before Ria could decline, Aunt Charity said, “Thank you, Lord Arden. So kind. Very obliging. We have been saying it would be nice to go out more. Seeing other people will be a welcome diversion.”
Hiding her surprise at this response from Aunt Charity, who normally had to be compelled to attend a party, Ria made a mental note to make sure she was not in the vicinity when he came to collect or bring back the ladies.
Though she was certain he wasn’t sincere in his invitation—and if he did escort the ladies, she could not help but take pleasure in thinking of him drinking tepid sweet lemonade and talking to the seemingly virtuous people at country entertainments. She almost laughed at the thought of his discussing the past wheat harvest or the best way to repair a hedgerow. His boredom would be a just reward for his persistence and should see him off back to London posthaste.
Looking directly at Ria, he said, “It is my pleasure to be of assistance in what must be a difficult time for you. You must miss your husband greatly.”
While she’d enjoyed the notion of him suffering at a country ball, she was uncomfortable with the turn the conversation had now taken.
Not wanting to discuss her bereavement, Ria tried to hint it was time he departed. “Oh, is that the time my lord? I am sure you must have better things to do than entertain us. Though your company has been very welcome. Please, do not let us detain you any longer.”
He smiled at her as he graciously replied, “Thank you for your thoughtfulness, but I have no pressing engagements this afternoon.” He smoothly added, “However, some exercise would be welcome. Perhaps you would accompany me on a walk around your grounds?”
His back was to the window. Ria looked over his shoulder at the terrace and then smiled sweetly. “What a lovely idea. A walk would be delightful.” With false regret, she then informed him, “But I’m afraid, my lord, it’s begun to rain, so it is not possible.”
He gazed at her consideringly. “That would explain the chill in the air.”
Before she could frame a reply Aunt Faith helpfully suggested, “Perhaps you would like to walk in the portrait gallery as you are unable to walk around the grounds.”
While Ria looked daggers at Aunt Faith, he smiled in gratitude at the lady and responded, “I would be honored.”
The thread holding together Ria’s manners unraveled slightly more, but she could not bring herself to be so discourteous as to refuse. Afraid her annoyance would show, she merely smiled politely.
Rising, she led a procession from the library. She was followed by her unwelcome guest then the aunts and Monty. The cousins elected to remain behind and finish their correspondence.
5
As Ria reached the landing she realized the aunts were still only half way up the first flight of stairs.
The reason soon became obvious. Aunt Charity was holding on to the mahogany balustrade and placing both feet on each step before going to the next. Was she unwell?
Ria called down to her, “Are you all right, Aunt?”
Aunt Charity nodded, “Yes, my dear. I merely have a touch of cramp in my leg.”
Aunt Faith made a shooing motion with her hands. “You both go ahead. I shall stay with her. I’m sure we will be there directly.”
When they entered the long, portrait-lined gallery, filled with light even on such a dull winter day due to the overhead skylights, he stopped at the first portrait. “Was this your husband?”
“Yes. The portrait was painted a year before he died.” She was unable to prevent the slight tremor in her voice. It happened whenever she mentioned his death.
She loved this painting. The artist had chosen to pose Montague St. James before an open window, the estate in the background. Solidly built, though not portly, he was wearing breeches with riding boots. His close-fitting brown riding coat was open to reveal a waistcoat, a linen shirt, and meticulously tied cravat. A gold quizzing glass hung around his neck from a brown ribbon. His slight smile was matched by a twinkle in his gray eyes.
Lord Arden interrupted her study of the portrait. “Now I see this portrait, I believe I met him last year at my club, White’s. Although I didn’t remember his name. From what I recall, he was amiable.”
“Yes, he was.”