She busied herself about the task while he held his chin up and felt the warmth of her fingers close to his neck and looked down into her face, frowning in concentration and very close to his own.
There was something uncomfortably domestic about this.
“I hope,” she said, “you do not favor elaborate knots. But you used not to.”
And then she darted a look up at him and bit her lip, presumably at the memory of a long-ago era.
“A secretary,” he said, “ought to have no more ambition to outshine his employer than a lady’s companion ought to have to outshine hers. But no, my tastes have not changed.”
She finished her task in silence, took a step back, and looked up at him.
Was that hurt he saw in her eyes?
“But then,” he said, “some companions would outshine their mistresses even if they were dressed in sacks.”
Her smile set her eyes to dancing.
“I was about to stamp on your foot for your rudeness,” she said. “And you do not even have your shoes on yet.”
“Ouch,” he said, and for a moment he let his eyes laugh back into hers.
He was thankful suddenly that there was a carriage awaiting them. There was enough tension in the room to cut with a knife.
“We had better be on our way,” he said. “Are you ready?”
“I have been ready for at least the last fifteen minutes,” she told him. “I am not the one who waited until the last possible moment.”
He pursed his lips and offered his arm.
Chapter Seven
Once in a long while life offered up a moment, sometimes even a whole day, of vivid and unexpected pleasure, and Nora had learned that such offerings must be grasped and lived for all they were worth lest they be lost forever.
Today was such a day, though it had begun in disaster and quickly progressed to something that had seemed even worse. She had not wanted to be stranded in Wimbury, and she had certainly not wanted to meet Richard there.
But both had happened, and so she had experienced all the joy of participating in a May Day fair and even of dancing about a maypole. And this evening she was being presented with all the seductive illusion of being back in the world she had grown up in. She was dining with a baronet, his wife, and their wellborn guests, and soon she would be stepping outside with them to enjoy the grand finale of the day.
She had thrown caution to the winds and was deliberately, consciously enjoying herself. Tomorrow she would deal with the inevitable emotional consequences.
Everyone at the table was laughing over the garish blue beads and bracelets she was wearing and the story she had just told about them. Richard had bought them for her at the fair, she had explained, and so she wore them this evening rather than any other jewelry. She chose her words carefully so that she did not quite lie. And she smiled at him across the dining table.
It was not a lie she had told. Even if she had had a treasure chest full of costly jewels with her, she would have worn the beads tonight. They were part of the magic of the day.
“They are a gift for our tenth anniversary,” Richard said. “I was assured by the vendor that they are priceless pearls, and I do not doubt it for a moment.”
And his eyes twinkled back into hers as everyone laughed heartily at the joke.
They had indeed married in May. Almost exactly ten years ago.
Oh, Richard!
“But how very charming and romantic,” Lady Bancroft said. “What lady would not treasure such a gift forever, regardless of the truth of the vendor’s claim?”
“I will remember this when your birthday comes up next month, Adeline,” Sir Winston said to another general laugh.
Nora fingered her beads as a servant took her empty dessert plate.
And she realized suddenly that her interpretation of the events of ten years ago had been wrong in more ways than one.
Her father and Jeremy had beaten him so badly after sending her upstairs to pack that he had been unable to come up to her or to follow her when they took her away.
It was not he who had abandoned her. Yet that had been the keystone of her thinking for ten years.
In fact, it had been the other way around. Instead of digging in her heels and refusing to leave without her husband, as she ought to have done, she had meekly reverted to her old self and obeyed her father almost without question.
She had been eighteen years old, old enough she had thought to make the defiant gesture of running away with the man she loved and marrying him. But not old enough to have developed anything like the maturity she had needed to deal with the situation that had presented itself.
And all these years she had blamed Richard.
But why had he not come after her later, when he was able?
As soon as they had all finished eating, the Bancrofts led their dinner guests to the drawing room and out through the French windows to the terrace, where a crowd had already gathered. It seemed to Nora that everyone who had been in the village during the day must have come here tonight, including their children, who were dashing about at play, their shrieks mingling with the animated voices of their elders. The crowd was spread out over the terrace, the formal flower gardens below, and the lawns beyond. On a large square of grass in the middle of the formal gardens, a wooden dance floor had been laid. And seated beside it, the same fiddlers and pipers who had played for the maypole dancing were tuning their instruments.
“We always hope for fine weather for this particular event,” Lady Bancroft explained, her arm linked through Nora’s. “It is never quite the same if we have to move everything indoors to the ballroom.”
Lamps were lit on the terrace and along the paths of the flower gardens. The sky overhead was clear. The moon and a million stars beamed down at them. It was a cool evening, though not cold.
“This has been a wonderful day,” Nora said. “One never wishes to be stranded, but I am almost glad we have been today.”
“I am entirely glad,” Lady Bancroft agreed. “It is such a pleasure to have met you and Lord Bourne and to have you here with us this evening. Where are you going?”
Nora had no idea where Richard was going, or even in which direction. She knew nothing at all about him, in fact. She had not wanted to know.
“To London,” she said.
“You are going to be there for the rest of the Season?” Lady Bancroft asked. “So are we. We will be leaving here next week. Oh, we must meet again there. We will have you to dine. Perhaps we can go to the theater together one evening or to Vauxhall Gardens, one of my favorite places in the world. Perhaps you and I can go shopping together.”
And so next week, Nora thought, the Bancrofts would discover how they had been duped today. They would not find her there. They might not find Richard, either. But they would learn that Lord Bourne had no wife.
“That will be pleasant,” she said.
“We must get the dancing started, Adeline,” Sir Winston said, coming up to them with Richard, “or everyone will be growing impatient. Lady Bourne, will you do me the honor of partnering me?”
“Thank you,” she said, setting her hand on his sleeve and descending the steps from the terrace with him.
Richard came behind with Lady Bancroft.
It was a fast and merry country dance, as were the two that followed it. Nora danced those with other gentlemen who had been at dinner. She was breathless by the time the third set was at an end and slipped away to stroll along one of the paths through the flower garden. There was a small octagonal summerhouse just beyond it, she had noticed, the perfect place to sit for a while if it was not already occupied. Surprisingly, it was not, and she stepped inside, where the air was comfortably warm, and sat down on the padded bench that circled the inner wall. She was surrounded by windows and looked out over a lawn to woodland beyond. A group of children were performing some circle dance on the grass, their hands joined.