Page 57 of The Dreaming Beauty
He smiled when Miss Bellvue laughed at herself, but mostly he did so because if Tansy had tried to send him a message, then perhaps she had not enjoyed being in Simon’s arms. He had hated seeing her tucked up against him. They had fit perfectly. His smile fell.
Tansy, Tansy, what were you trying to say?Sunrise? It made no sense, unless she had been relying on the fact that he knew she would never want to arise that early. He moved to the next two words:willows,night. In the willows? At night? The pieces seemed to fall together. There was great room for misinterpretation, but his growing confidence told him he was on to something.
Tansy wanted to meet him tonight in the willows before sunrise. “What on earth is she thinking?”
Miss Bellvue quieted. It was only then that he realized he had spoken out loud.
“I did not think you were paying attention,” Miss Bellvue said in response. “But I know exactly what you mean. Mrs. Palmer was going to eat you out of house and home.”
He frowned. “What?”
“Tonight, while you were gone, the woman ate nigh unto everything and then stormed from the room as if Lady Melbourne’s fare was not good enough for her.”
“Did someone say something to set Mrs. Palmer off?”
“Nothing at all. We both know your mother would never have said anything distasteful.”
Perhaps. But his mother had been quite adamant about keeping Tansy away from Simon. “Then what happened?” His interest was piqued.
“It was quite the dramatic scene. Miss Tansy tore after her, and I do not blame her. I would have been mortified myself. Not only is she forced to live in a houseful of ghosts, but her aunts are all half mad. I do feel sorry for her, don’t you?”
Something had transpired while he was at the dower house. Something his mother had said or done had given Tansy the need to speak to him in a way that screamed of desperation. She had to know how risky it would be for her reputation—for his as well—if they were caught... if he even went, that is. He wasn’t sure if he could get away or even if he should. There had to be a safer way to meet. If he truly cared for her, protecting her should be his first priority.
He endeavored to put the clues from his mind and give Miss Bellvue his full attention. The night he had looked forward to for some time passed in agonizing slowness. As he finally waved goodbye to their guests, he considered Tansy again, weighed down with concerns, waiting for him. Each time he pushed the thought away, guilt took its place. She needed him, and why did the hour dictate when a man should care and when he should not?
The butler closed the door behind the Farrises, leaving the family alone together in the entrance hall once more.
“That went well.” Simon untied his cravat, leaving it hanging open at his neck.
“Well enough,” their mother said in response. “Marcus, I would speak to you in the library.”
Simon balked. “Can’t what you have to say be said to the both of us?”
“I only want to hear why he was late to our party, but if you want to talk about you, Simon, we can. What did you think of Miss Redding?”
“She was a perfect bore. Beautiful, yes, but not one intelligent thing passed her mouth all night. And, before you ask, Miss Bellvue might like my attention, but it is Marcus who has caught her eye. As for Miss Farris? Mother, you have better taste than that.”
“You rushed me into setting the date. If you had given me a month or more, I could have invited a slew of girls—maybe even a foreign princess. As it was, you turned up your nose at three women with excellent families and reputations.”
Simon groaned and dropped his head back. “How many times must I tell you that I am not marrying anyone for their position in Society? Let’s be done with this. Marcus, it’s your turn. However did you manage to avoid dinner? Tell me your secrets, please, I beg you.”
Marcus was hesitant to explain his errand for the dowager. He did not yet understand what had transpired between his mother and Tansy, but he would not fuel any fires. “I went on a walk and met Mr. Treavor. I am sorry to have missed dinner, and I will take greater care not to do so again.”
His mother deliberated for a moment before saying, “See that you do not. Simon, go to bed. Marcus, take my arm. I am tired.”
Simon seemed eager to be free of them, and his long strides carried him up the staircase.
As soon as his mother took Marcus’s arm, she began whispering. “I require your help. Mrs. Palmer and her niece caused quite a stir tonight, and I will not have them in this house again. Do whatever you must, but keep that girl away from Simon.”
Marcus froze, his foot on the bottom stair. “I cannot do that.”
“And whyever not?”
Irritation coursed through him. “Because I plan to accept a teaching position in the fall. I have much to prepare for, and I cannot be playing nursemaid to Simon.”
“Simon comes first, Marcus. You know that. You’ve always known that. If it’s money you need, doesn’t this steward position pay enough?”
Marcus wanted to be an obedient child, but he’d always had to do whatever it took to care for Simon. There was never a question about his career or what his dreams were. It was always Simon first, with Marcus assigned to stand in his shadow. But if Marcus wanted to further his research and provide for a wife—a family—he needed to make his own way, separate from Simon.
