He sounded perfectly matter-of-fact; Madeline laughed and they strolled on.
Chapter 12
The Peninsula Summer Festival of 1816 was a resounding success. Later that evening, in the carriage with Muriel and her brothers on their way back to the castle for the celebratory dinner Sybil was hosting for the committee and their families, Madeline reflected on the day.
Unbeknown to any but the castle staff, Gervase had arranged a stunningly unique end to the event—a three-cannon salute by the big guns that had throughout the long years of the wars stood at emplacements along the castle’s seaward wall, keeping watch over the cove. Gathering Mr. Maple, towing Madeline in his wake as he had all the day, he’d climbed the castle steps, collected the attention of the crowd still milling in the forecourt, thanked them, then given the order for the salute to be fired in honor of them all.
The first boom had shaken the crowd, but even before the echoes had died people were exclaiming, cheering and clapping, children rushing to the ramparts to watch the next firing.
Madeline remembered the moment with a smile. A golden end to a glorious day.
Their carriage was the last to rock to a halt before the castle steps. The castle staff and many local volunteers had worked swiftly and efficiently to restore the forecourt to its normal spacious state; the fading light hid the depredations visited on the lawns and ramparts. A sense of relief and satisfied accomplishment had enveloped both place and people; the members of the committee were all smiles, with gratified congratulations passed all around.
The dinner went well. Madeline was unsurprised to find herself seated beside Gervase. In reality there was no one else who could more appropriately be seated there; her position didn’t mean, and wouldn’t be seen as indicating, anything more.
After a relaxed meal during which formality was dispensed with in favor of the less rigid rules usually applied to family gatherings, the gentlemen elected to rise with the ladies and accompany them to the drawing room, there to continue sharing the various tales and anecdotes gleaned from the day.
Lady Hardesty and her guests had been observed by many; listening to the comments, Madeline noted that none referred directly to her ladyship, focusing instead on the manners of her friends. It was a subtle, polite, yet pointed rebuke, no less real for being unspoken. Lady Hardesty was on notice; everyone seemed agreed on that.
They’d only been back in the drawing room for ten minutes when Muriel touched Madeline’s arm.
“No—don’t get up.” Muriel leaned down to speak quietly to her where she sat relaxed in a large armchair. “You were on your feet all day. As were the boys.” She nodded to where the trio were gathered on a bench, all but nodding, valiantly trying to stay awake, as were Gervase’s sisters, the Caterham girls and the Juliards’ younger son. “I’ll take our lot home—I’m ready to leave myself—but you should stay awhile.”
Before Madeline could react, Muriel looked beyond her to where Gervase sat in the chair alongside. “I’m sure his lordship will be happy to drive you home later. No need for you to cut short your evening. You deserve to have some fun.”
“Oh, but—” Caught totally off-guard, Madeline glanced at Gervase.
To find him smiling—entirely too sweetly—at Muriel. He rose and bowed. “H
is lordship will be only too delighted. I’ll drive Madeline back to Treleaver Park after the party breaks up.”
Muriel beamed at him. “Excellent.”
Madeline stared at her aunt. Muriel wasn’t exactly a man-hater—she was a widow after all—but she had little time for personable gentlemen, deeming most not worth her time.
Gervase, clearly, fell into a different category.
“I…” She glanced up at Gervase.
He arched a polite brow. “We’ve only just started recounting all those little things that might have gone better—it would be useful if you would stay.”
But it was no longer her responsibility to run the festival; after today, certainly once he married, that role would fall to his countess.
He studied her face, then simply said, “Please.”
Her eyes on his, she drew in a breath, held it, then surrendered. “Very well.” She looked at Muriel. “If you’re sure…?”
“Of course I am.” With a dismissive wave, Muriel headed off to extract the boys.
They came to make their farewells, bowing politely to the company before exiting quietly in Muriel’s wake.
“They look asleep on their feet.” Mrs. Caterham leaned closer to speak to Madeline. “As do our two, but now your boys are gone I daresay they’ll curl up there with Sybil’s girls.” So saying, she turned back to listen to Squire Ridley expound on the comeuppance of two knaves who’d tried to make off with some horse brasses.
“Never saw such brass in my life, heh?” Gerald chortled and slapped his thigh. “But we fixed them. Burnham set them to mucking out the stableyard—with so many horses in the lines there was plenty to do.”
Several hours sped by in companionable sharing. Mrs. Entwhistle took notes, although there’d been no serious difficulties to record. Eventually, with a pervasive sense of satisfaction enfolding them, the guests rose and took their leave of a tired but delighted Sybil.
In the front hall, Madeline hung back beside Sybil while Gervase walked out to the porch, chatting with Mr. Maple.