Page 26 of The Lord who Captured Her Innocent Heart
Ella brought the letter across her breast, inhaling slowly. She wanted to live in this moment, this infinity that had suddenly opened up, allowing her to feel wanted and seen. Lord Peter Holloway had lifted his quill with her — her! — in mind, above all things. And he’d responded with poetics, with flair.
In the back of her mind, she couldn’t imagine that Frederick would ever write her such beautiful things. Although, she reminded herself, Frederick would imbue her with historical facts, with comprehension of the world’s politics in ways that Peter never could. That was why she loved him, why she’d always loved him.
She had to remember that.
Chapter 12
Peter found Frederick in the garden of the Braxton estate several hours prior to the festivities. Frederick had fully draped himself over his book and scribbled to the side with a quill, muttering to himself. His brow was fully furrowed, in such a way that Peter felt he could probably lodge things inside of it — collect items, without Frederick’s knowing.
Peter cleared his throat to alert to his arrival. Frederick glanced up, seeming to peer at Peter from someplace very, very far away.
“Oh! There you are,” is what he said.
Peter chuckled. “Lost in your own head again, are you, Frederick?”
Frederick mopped his forehead, seemingly going through the long, harried process of coming back into the real world. “I don’t have much time before the party,” he muttered. His eyes cast towards the moors, tracing the route towards the Chesterton estate. “It’s all a bit hazy for me, these parties. I know I have to be completely on, like a sort of actor, the entire time. I can feel Tatiana’s parents watching my every motion. It’s as though they want me to muddle up, to make it seem that I’m not suited for their daughter…”
“That’s not true, Frederick,” Peter said, although he half-hoped it was. “They only want their daughter to be married to an appropriate suitor, and I dare say you’re far more appropriate than most of the men in London. Just look at your estate! Your family name! What family wouldn’t want to latch themselves to that?”
Frederick’s wrinkles grew deeper. This hadn’t assuaged his worries, as Peter knew it wouldn’t.
“I do hope Tatiana sees more in me than simply my title,” he murmured, almost to himself.
“What was that?” Peter asked.
“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” Frederick began to snap his books into place once more, still muttering to himself. Peter couldn’t imagine Tatiana with this muttering, silly man. Perhaps Ella was better suited? She certainly did have her quirks.
Although, Peter had taken pause over the seemingly dramatic way he’d written out the letters to her over the previous day. In her second letter, she’d explained that she’d bribed one of the maids to ensure that his letters would arrive after the rest of them, so as not to draw any sort of attention from her parents and sister. Peter had chuckled at this, knowing that Ella thought herself, now, to be a master of spying. “Perhaps they should hire you to the monarchy, to spy on the various court subjects to ensure there’s no funny business,” he’d written.
He’d known this would please her. Why was he doing anything to please her? Out of the niceness in his soul? Or some other, darker, deeper reason?
“Regardless, I need to become more of a socialite, I think, if I’m going to please the Chestertons,” Frederick continued, standing quickly and drawing his books against his stomach. His nostrils twitched. “I want the sort of relationship with Tatiana’s father that you’re meant to have with your father-in-law…”
“What? That they dislike you only beneath the surface?” Peter asked.
Frederick’s face turned a strange green colour. “Is that really what they’re meant to think?”
“I believe so. For, after the wedding nuptials have concluded, you know what’s meant to occur,” Peter said.
Frederick’s jaw dropped a bit, as though he hadn’t thought of it this way. He blinked several times, stuttering. “You don’t suppose he’s already hating me, despite the marriage not yet occurring. Why, it’s simply not fair!”
“He already knows the future, darling Frederick. You mustn’t fret about it. It’s simply the fact of life.”
At this, Peter stretched his hand towards the outdoor table, just behind Frederick’s hunched form. He swept his fingers over a gleaming apple and drew it towards his teeth. Seconds before he tore into it, he noted a massive, rotting hole in the centre. He reared back, conscious that he’d nearly torn into what was most assuredly a worm. He returned the apple to the table, sliding his hand across his pants.
“I’m grateful you’ve arrived early, Peter,” Frederick said. “I really could use company. Care for a drink?”
**
The garden party was a spectacular affair, with over 50 people assuring their attendance. Peter watched as carriage after carriage rumbled towards the Braxton estate, delivering women in light-coloured gowns, their hair wagging in curls, their smiles spectacular, catching the sun. Their men led them up the path to the back garden, where the Braxton house service had arranged a spectacular picnic spread. Blankets had been extended throughout the garden, each with a supply of wine and bread and cheeses.
Frederick’s mother and father, Peter’s aunt and uncle, extended their hands in greeting as the various members of the party arrived. Frederick’s mother, a bespectacled once-beauty, dotted little kisses on the many women of London, uttering niceties regarding the fabric of their gowns or the way they’d draped their hair. “Mother always knows precisely what to say,” Frederick murmured to Peter, now, his eyes glazed with jealousy. “Just why didn’t she pass along this gene to me? Pray tell.”
“You have a similar charm, Frederick,” Peter offered, although he didn’t believe it. He knew this was the sort of thing you were meant to say, to ensure the other could continue forth on their journey — or at least, live through the garden party.
Frederick seemed to just sweat more.
The Chesterton sisters and their mother and father arrived moments later. Tatiana stepped first from the carriage, her light violet dress stitched low on her breasts. Her black hair was tied back smoothly, ensuring the chaos of her curls was kept in check.
