The Heather Keep Music Room, The following day
Four days after the disaster in Lady Cherringham’s chamber, Blythe began to wonder if she would ever find another chance to search for those letters. Lady Acid had remained in her rooms for three days, claiming a sore throat and slight fever.
The duke’s mother had paid a visit to the invalid. Later, although their hostess had seemed a bit flustered, she informed her guests that Countess Cherringham would recover quite soon. Indeed, that night, Lady Acid appeared at dinner. She looked wan, as one would expect of someone recovering from the sickroom. She laughed and conversed normally with her nearby dining companions. However, she picked at her food and drank very little.
A desert of Toffee pudding was served. When all were finished, Her Grace of Glenlewis asked the gentlemen to join the ladies in the music room for performances and perhaps an impromptu dance or two.
On arriving there, Blythe was relieved to see a tea service ready and waiting. There was even a pot of coffee. She was about to move in that direction with Bella when she came face to face with Lady Acid.
“Lady Blythe, Miss Bella, how pleasant to see you. I’ve sadly missed all my friends during my illness. Fortunately, I am completely recovered. Would you care to share a cup of tea or coffee with me?”
Blythe did not know what to say. “I would very much like a cup of coffee.”
“Me as well. Delicious as the pudding was, it was too sweet for my tastes.” Lady Acid declared sotto voce, ending with a small laugh.
“Now Miss Bella, what would you prefer?”
“Ah, chamomile tea, if it is available. I find I’ve not been sleeping well,” Bella said.
Neither had Blythe. Their rooms were chilly at best, and finding a spot in bed untouched by drafts was difficult. She moved toward the refreshment table.
Lady Acid stepped in front of her. Blythe had just enough time to stop before blundering straight into that lady.
“Please, Lady Blythe, Miss Bella, allow me to obtain the beverages. I’ve been so busy before my illness that I’ve sadly neglected two of my oldest fr… acquaintances.”
“We’ll be here.” Bella gestured to nearby chairs surrounding a low table.
“Save the third chair for me, please.”
“Of course. Lady Cherringham.”
Lady Acid marched toward the refreshments.
“How odd,” Bella remarked as she took her seat. “She’s never behaved in so friendly a manner towards us.”
Brows lowered, Blythe sat as well. “Very odd. From what I know, Lady Acid does nothing that does not further her own interests.”
“Oh, surely not,” Bella said. “She’s not been friendly, but neither has she been outwardly rude.”
“I’ve known her longer than you.” I never told you of her attempt to blackmail you, and until I hold those letters, I never will. “Now hush. Here she comes.”
Lady Acid returned. At her back walked a servant carrying a tray with three cups, condiments, and an assortment of pastries.
“The Coffee goes to Lady Blythe.” The countess gestured. “Miss Bella will have the chamomile. Of course, the last cup is mine. Thank you.”
The servant unloaded his tray and left.
At just that moment, the men arrived.
“Ladies, Miss Bella, may we join you?”
Bella smiled up at his grace. “Certainly, Your Grace, you as well, Lord Cynedroit.”
Blythe watched Lady Cherringham, but her expression was hidden by her cup.
Properly she should have responded to the duke’s request. Blythe would mention the gaff to Bella when they were alone.
His Grace signaled a servant for two more chairs. He sat in the chair placed between Blythe and Bella. The Marquess occupied the one placed between Blythe and Lady Cherringham.
What does Lady acid think about Glenlewis’ clear preference for my sister’s company?
Blythe took a third sip of her coffee then grimaced. The first two sips had gone down well, because of the contrast with the pudding. However, she now found the brew entirely too bitter and promised herself to drink only lemonade for the rest of the night.
“Is the coffee not to your liking, Lady Blythe?” Lord Cynedroit asked.
“It is perfectly good. I simply have lost my taste for it.”
“Then may I finish what remains.”
It was an odd request.
“Surely you’d prefer your own.”
“All of the servants are busy. If I want more, I’ll get some later.”
“Then by all means, help yourself.” Blythe should have turned her head away. Instead, she watched him lift the cup then turn it in his hand until he found the spot where the cup had last touched her lips.
He held her gaze captive. The muscles in his throat working while he drained the cup.
On his other side, Lady Cherringham smiled. “You have a prodigious thirst, my lord. Was there not enough brandy?”
“Lord Stuart provided a most excellent brandy in large supply,” Lord Cynedroit murmured with a quick glance at Lady Cherringham. “However.” He fixed his gaze once more on Blythe. “I find myself in need of a much different sort of stimulant.”
Without looking, he set his cup on the table, and signaled a servant for another round.
“Lemonade for me, my lord, please.”
He informed the servant, and the three of them soon had their drinks.
“Dear guests,” Her Grace called for attention. “We have had the floor cleared and the rug taken up, so that some of you might dance. However, before the musicians in the upper gallery begin, please raise a glass or cup in toast to my son and Miss Bella Leigh, his affianced bride.”
The couple stood, Blythe and Lord Cynedroit rose with them. The room tilted a bit as Blythe moved to hug her sister. Lord Cynedroit steadied her.
“Bella, you sly puss. You never said a word.”
Her sister was blushing at all the attention. “His Grace only asked me this afternoon.”
“When you were strolling in the garden?”
Bella nodded.
“I wish you both very happy.”
“Most definitely felicitations to you both,” Lord Cynedroit grinned and clapped his friend on the shoulder.
“I wish you the happiness you so richly deserve, Miss Leigh.”
Lady Cherringham’s good wish surprised Blythe. Perhaps she is changing.
“My dear, would you care to dance?” His Grace of Glenlewis bowed over Bella’s hand.
“Most certainly.”
The musicians struck up a waltz, and all the guests watched the engaged couple take the first round across the floor.
“Would you honor me with a dance, Lady Blythe?” The Marquess of Cynedroit asked.
She wanted to, with all her heart. But the hand he held out to her blurred as she looked on. Her head spun. “You honor me with your request. However, I regret my lord that I don’t waltz.”
She hadn’t waltzed, or danced at all for that matter, since the night she’d fallen on him at her brother’s hunt ball.
She’d hidden from everyone for a week in order to avoid the pity of her siblings and the lecture Havenaught would deliver on how impossible it would be for her charge to make a good match. “With ten brothers and a younger sister, you cannot expect a large dowry. You must wish to end your days a spinster, or you would try harder to be graceful.”
“Then I shan’t waltz either,” Lord Cynedroit said. “What do you say to chatting quietly while others exhaust themselves. I see two empty chairs over by the fireplace.”
He did not invite Lady Acid who remained at Blythe’s other side.
She looked up at him, wondering where this attention had come from. “Yes, I would like that.” As she spoke the room spun.
“Are you feeling well, Lady Blythe,” Lady Cherringham asked. “You look a trifle peaked. Allow me to help you to your bedroom.”
The walls around Blythe began to spin in earnest, her stomach twisted. “Yes, please. Excuse me, Lord Cynedroit. We will chat another time, perhaps.”
She covered her mouth with one hand, giving the other over to Lady Cherringham’s care.
“I will make your excuses to her grace,” Lord Cynedroit said.
Too worried that her stomach would embarrass her before she could get to her room, Blythe let Lady Cherringham answer.
“Thank you, my lord.”
How long it took to traverse the maze of corridors to her chamber, Blythe did not know. By the time they arrived, she was drooping in Lady Cherringham’s arms.
The warmth of the room was a shock. I might be running a fever.
“I ap… apologize f… for taking you awa…away from…” The sentence wandered off into the confusion that had taken up residence in her head.
“Nonsense, dear Lady Blythe. I’ve called on my dresser to help get you ready for bed. She will tuck you in.”
Blythe scarcely noticed the cooler air from the hallway as the door opened and closed.
“Tuck me in, yes, please.”
With the dresser helping her to stand, Blythe’s dress and underthings were removed. The maid assisted with washing her face and hands.
“Ah, that feels wonderful.” Blythe mumbled as the dresser led her to the bed.
This room is so much warmer.”
“I will bank the fire, Lady Blythe.”
“Thank you, Lady Cherringham.”
The dresser gave her an odd look as she pulled the covers over Blythe. However, sleep claimed her before she could wonder why.