Innocent in the Regency Ballroom: Miss Winthorpe's Elopement / Dangerous Lord, Innocent Governess

Her home as well, he reminded himself. She had every right to be taking tea in the room he had promised was solely for her use. And she was performing her duty as wife to see that he was provided with his. What right did he have to complain?

He sat down on the sofa next to her and waited in silence, while she pulled a tiny table closer to him and prepared his cup as she’d seen him take it. ‘Biscuit?’

He stared at the unfamiliar thing in front of him.

She responded without his asking, ‘I am accustomed to take sweets in the afternoon. These are a favourite of mine. I find the lemon zest in them most refreshing, so I have given the recipe to Cook. But if you would prefer something more substantial …’

‘No. This is fine. Thank you.’

She was staring at him now. And he raised his eyes from his cup, to stare back at her.

‘I am sorry for suggesting it,’ she remarked, ‘but is something the matter? You seem rather out of sorts.’

‘What business is it of yours?’ he snapped. And immediately regretted his outburst.

She was unfazed. ‘Only that, earlier in the day, you said you wished to be friends.’

‘I said I wished to appear to be friends. That is an entirely different matter.’

Again, she was unfazed, but answered thoughtfully, ‘As you wish. Although it is sometimes easier to keep up the appearance, if an actual friendship exists.’ There was no tartness in her voice. Merely a statement of fact.

He rubbed his brow with his hand. ‘I apologise. Of course, you are right. I had no call to snap at you.’

‘As you wish. I was not offended by it. It is I who should apologise to you for intruding on your peace. I merely wished to thank you for sending Jem to get my book. It was nice that you remembered.’ She fell silent and allowed him to enjoy his tea.

But the silence was almost more discomforting than the noise, for it allowed him to feel the guilt again, although he could not imagine what it was that pained him.

‘You are not disturbing my peace, Penny. But I fear I disturbed yours. I think—it may be possible that I am not comfortable when at peace. I must always be doing something to keep back the quiet. Thus, I released my ill-behaved friends on you this morning.’

She chuckled. ‘We are an unsuitable pair, are we not?’

‘Opposites attract.’ But he could not manage to sound as sure as he wished.

‘But at least our political views agree. It would be most difficult to respect you if—’

‘Our politics?’ It was his turn to laugh. ‘To what purpose does a woman have political views?’

‘To no purpose, other than that I live in this country, and am concerned with how it progresses. While I am not allowed to vote, there is nothing to prevent me from reading the speeches and governmental proceedings in The Times. That I cannot do anything to forward my views is no fault of mine.’ She cast her eyes downwards, and then favoured him with a sidelong glance through her lashes. ‘As a weak woman, I must pray that the country is in good hands.’

He felt the small thrill along his spine that he always got when a woman was trying to capture his attention. Could it be? He looked at her again. There was a faint smile on her face, and an even fainter flush on her pale skin.

His wife was flirting with him. Over the proceedings of the House of Lords.

It was an unusual approach, and unlikely to be successful. It would be easy enough to prove that she knew nothing of the subject with a few simple questions. And then, if she truly wished to flatter him, she could return to safer subjects favoured by other women of his female acquaintance: the colour of his eyes, or the cut of his coat and how well it favoured his shoulders. ‘So you agree with my politics, do you?’

‘Most definitely. Your grasp of economy is most erudite.’

‘And you feel that the country is competently governed? For having seen the political process up close, I sometimes have my doubts.’

‘Well, as far as I can tell, Lord Beaverton is a fool,’ she said. ‘He has little understanding of domestic trade, and even less of international issues. And he seems to disagree most vehemently with you on the subject of cotton imports.’

‘Because he has interests in India,’ Adam supplied. ‘He is feathering his own nest.’

‘Well, your interchange with him sounded most spirited. Although, if you could clarify a certain point …’

He had wondered when she would allow him to speak, for she seemed to have no understanding of the conversational gambit that encouraged a woman to listen more than she spoke. Her first question was followed by another, and then another. And some were of a level of complexity that he was required to refer to a gazetteer in his study, and other references as well.

And soon it seemed easier just to move the tea things and conversation to his desk. He ceded her the chair, for he sometimes found it easier to think while on his feet, and she peppered him with questions while he paced the room.

There was a discreet knock at the door, and the butler entered. ‘Your Grace? You have guests.’

A head appeared around the back of the servant. Tim was there, and he could see other friends crowding behind him in the hall. ‘Have you forgotten, Adam? Dinner at the club?’

He glanced at the clock on the mantel. How had it got to be so late? ‘It will be the work of a moment, and I will be ready to go.’ He glanced down at Penny. ‘Of course, if you wish, I will cancel.’

She shook her head. ‘That is all right. I prefer to remain at home.’ He thought he detected a trace of wistfulness in her answer.

‘If you are sure?’

She nodded again, gathering her tea things from his desk. ‘I should be going back to my room, after all. I meant to accomplish more today.’

‘I am sorry if I distracted you. Until tomorrow, then.’ And before he knew what he was doing, he’d bent and kissed her on the cheek.

She turned as pink as the walls of her sitting room, but she did not flinch from him. In fact, the smile he received in reward was quite charming, before she remembered that there were others present, and hurried across the hall and into her study, closing the door.

In retrospect, he’d have been better to have remained at home, for that seemed to be where his mind resided. The strange day only served to accent the commonness of the evening. The boring conversation and stale jokes of his friends were punctuated with exclamations of ‘Adam, why must you be so glum?’

The constant reminder that he was not himself only served to make his mood darker.

When they were at cards, and Minton had presented some outlandish political position, Adam had snapped, ‘Really, John, if I wished to talk politics, I’d have stayed home with my wife. She, at least, has some idea of what she is talking about.’

There was an amused murmur in the crowd around him, as though he had confirmed to the men around him that his sudden marriage had addled his mind. Only Tim looked at him and nodded with approval.

Soon after, a servant arrived, bearing a note on a salver for Tim. His friend unfolded the paper, grew pale, and asked a servant for his hat and gloves. ‘I must make my apologies. I am called home. There is an emergency.’

‘Nothing serious, I hope,’ Adam said.

‘I suspect it is little Sophie. She has been sick again. And I am a little worried.’ Judging by Tim’s agitation, minor worry did not describe his true state of mind.

Adam stood up. ‘I will go with you. We will take my carriage to save time, and I will return home once your mind is at rest.’

But on arrival at the Colton home, they discovered the true nature of the emergency. All the lights were blazing, and from the salon came the sound of voices, laughter, and a soprano warbling along with the pianoforte.

Tim swore softly and with vehemence threw his hat into a corner and stalked into the room with Adam following in his wake.

His wife seized him by the arm, forcing a drink into his hand and announced to the gathering, ‘Here they are! As I told you, they were detained.’

Adam was close enough to hear Tim murmur to his wife, ‘You knew my intentions, and yet you brought me home to play host to a gathering that is none of my making.’