Page 53 of The Dreaming Beauty
Tansy glanced over to their host in search of Marcus and unintentionally met his brother’s gaze. Simon’s smile stretched as broad as she had ever seen it. It had been weeks since she had seen him, and she had not expected his enthusiasm to be what it had been before. If anything, it seemed more so. He quickly excused himself and crossed to her.
“Miss Tansy,” he greeted, ignoring the others beside her. “You look radiant tonight. I have been counting down the days until I could be by your side. You were not at church two weeks in a row. I myself am not a regular, but I confess I had hoped to see you.”
Tansy’s eyes widened. He should not have said so much, especially with the others within earshot. Oh, where was Marcus? “My aunt was not well.” At least, it had been true the first week, though the second Sunday she had stayed behind simply due to Daisy’s anxiety. But this was hardly the time to discuss her aunt’s discomfort in large groups, so she left it at that.
“Is she better now? I noticed you left two of your aunts behind.” He nodded to Iris.
Iris’s smile was tremulous at best.
“My youngest aunt is unwell again tonight, but her spirits will be much improved when she hears you asked after her.” Tansy forced herself to breathe evenly. Oh, why couldn’t he give Miss Bellvue his attention?Shewas quite eager to receive it.
Dinner was announced, and His Grace excused himself to escort his mother to dinner. Marcus was still not anywhere to be seen. The couples fell in line, and Tansy and Iris brought up the end.
“I did not get a good look at Lady Melbourne. Did you?” Iris whispered.
Tansy had forgotten to mention she had met Lady Melbourne before. “Yes, she is most elegant.”
Iris stopped her on the threshold of the dining room. “Wait.” She pointed from one seat to the next. “Thirteen! Thirteen guests. I told you I knew something was off about tonight.”
“Iris,” Tansy scolded. She motioned with her hand for her aunt to lower her voice.
Iris’s concern was not so easily dismissed, however. “It’s an omen of death, plain and simple. I’ve seen it before, I have. It had better not be me who dies. I have plans to live a long life. There are too many books I still want to read.”
Tansy’s eyes went to the ceiling, and she sighed in frustration. “No one is going to die. Just focus on the food, for my sake.”
“I know you think my ways are foolish, but I am telling you that something is not right about tonight.”
“Nevertheless, we did accept the invitation and must bear whatever comes the best we can,” Tansy whispered.
“I suppose you are right,” Iris grumbled. “But we cannot delay our return home.”
“We needn’t stay long after dinner.” Tansy could make no further argument, for though she did not believe their lives were in danger, she agreed with Iris on one thing. Thirteen was indeed an unlucky number of guests—because Marcus was still not among them.
Even after rationalizing with her aunt, when they stepped fully into the dining room, an uneasiness tickled down Tansy’s spine. Whether it was because she had to face the present company without Marcus’s presence or because of some bizarre sense of foreboding, she did not care to know. She would endure the dinner because Marcus had wanted her to come. And because someone in her family had to be sensible.
Tansy took Iris’s arm and pulled her to the two farthest seats from their host, at the end of the long rectangular dining table. Iris grumbled a stream of misgivings into Tansy’s ear, including a few pleas for Tansy to change her mind. As soon as they were seated opposite each other, Tansy leaned forward and mouthedThank youto her aunt for agreeing to stay despite the thirteen guests. She had never cared for Iris’s preaching of doom and gloom, but when Tansy leaned back, she shivered again. The dark prediction of death lingered in her mind and created a restlessness in her limbs and an overall sense of disquietude.
* * *
Dressed in his dinner clothes, Marcus stood on the steps in front of the dower house. This was the last place he had expected to be tonight—or any night. He hoped he could see to the dowager’s needs and make it to the dinner before he was missed. He did not like the idea of leaving Tansy in Simon’s overly friendly company or his mother’s disapproving one. Reaching for the knocker, he hit it three times against the six-paneled door.
Mr. Treavor opened the door and stepped to the side to let him in.
In the seven years since Simon had inherited the dukedom, neither of them had set foot in this cottage. Would tonight be the night Marcus met the dowager duchess for the first time? He handed his beaver hat to Mr. Treavor and stepped inside.
“Her Grace is waiting for you just through this door.”
Marcus allowed him to open the door, then followed him through. The sitting room was quite formal, with two upholstered chairs facing each other and a sofa at the end of the room. A fire popped behind the grate, adding more warmth than needed, the smell of wood mixing with a strong odor of lemon. The evening lighting was poor, and at first glance the room seemed vacant. And then he saw her. She faced the window, her back to him, her figure small.
“Good evening,” he said, not waiting for her to speak.
“Thank you for coming on such short notice, Mr. Taylor.” Her strong voice carried to him with more power than he might have guessed would come from such a petite form. “Many times you have told Mr. Treavor that we might call on you should any need arise.”
“That offer still stands, Your Grace. How may I be of assistance?”
“Take a seat, Mr. Taylor.”
Marcus eased into the first upholstered chair, wishing the dowager would do the same. It was awkward speaking to a person’s back.
