The Perfect Waltz (15 page)

“Good day, Mr. Reyne,” Miss Hope said. “We are calling for Cassie and Dorie, as arranged.” She held out two fingers of a gloved hand and did not quite meet his eye. She looked . . . wary. Every other time she’d met him, she’d given him a warm, wonderful smile. Today there was no smile.

He’d intended just such a response when he’d brusquely informed her of his courtship of Lady Elinore, the day before. He hadn’t realized how much he’d miss her smile. He felt it like an ache.

Absurdly hurt, he barely touched her fingers and stepped back. He said stiffly, “Please come in. The girls are not quite ready yet.”

Miss Merridew and her sisters entered, followed by their footman bearing a large urn and a strapping young maidservant with a basket over her arm. The maidservant eyed him curiously.

“I’ll send someone upstairs to fetch them.” He snapped his fingers to the tardy footman, who immediately ran upstairs.

Miss Faith arched her eyebrows at her sister, then saw he’d noticed the gesture. “An unfashionable hour to call, I admit,” she said, “but since we were going to Green Park, we thought the girls might enjoy watching the cows being milked.”

“Cows?” Sebastian frowned.

Seeing his puzzlement, Miss Hope explained, “There is a herd kept in Green Park to provide London residents with fresh milk.”

Sebastian nodded brusquely. He had no interest in cows, particularly when she had not looked at him the entire time she was talking to him.

As soon as they came downstairs, he would wave the girls off and return to his accounts and reports. He was a busy man and had more important things to think about than whether or not her feelings had been hurt.

Morton Black was keeping an eye on local events in the mill, but it was a potential powder keg. And a cotton shipment was late. The mine production figures were showing several anomalies, and a report from the shipping company was annoyingly incomplete. Several blistering letters were in order.

He wished his courtship of Lady Elinore was completed. He was very good at accepting reality. It was knowing that things were not settled between them yet that was making his mind unsettled and his body rebellious.

If only Miss Merridew hadn’t dressed in that soft muslin walking dress that caressed her curves with loving subtlety. And chosen a tight blue silk spencer that hugged her bosom. Her bonnet was in the same blue silk, and the effect of all this glorious blue was to make him feel he could drown in her eyes.

And if only her mouth wasn’t solemn and doubtful instead of smiling cheerfully, he wouldn’t now be battling with the need to take back those words he’d spoken, to make her smile and look up at him the way she had under that willow.

And he wouldn’t have lost sleep wishing he’d kissed those tender pink lips just one more time.

“Good morning, everyone!” Cassie clattered down the stairs, followed by Dorie. “I’m sorry we’re late. Nobody came to wake us, so we slept in.” She darted an irritated look at Sebastian, who had given orders that they were to be allowed to sleep as late as they needed. He knew from his morning and evening checks on them that they were unusually light sleepers for children, and he had an idea that Dorie, in particular, suffered from sleeplessness. Something had to account for those shadows under her eyes.

Cassie pulled on her bonnet, and Sebastian was touched when young Grace Merridew went to help Dorie with hers. The two children were of an age, but Grace glowed with health and confidence, and Dorie was pinched and little and pale. Dorie gave Grace a shy smile, and Sebastian’s mind was made up.

Dorie had just smiled.

He had to look away, to collect himself.

Miss Hope was watching him. He swallowed. A morass had opened up before him. He had to allow Dorie to see more of Grace Merridew. He would do anything for more of those shy little smiles, even if they weren’t directed at him.

It would take some clever planning, since he intended to eschew Grace’s sister’s company, but not impossible. He was good at planning. He would plan to avoid Miss Hope.

Sebastian prided himself on his self-control. He had learned early to subdue his personal desires in order to do what needed to be done. All his life he’d had other people depending on him, and he was not about to forget that simply because of a beautiful, blue-eyed chit. With a luscious mouth.

The girls were ready. The footman-in-training hurried to open the door. Sebastian stepped forward, intending to see them off. The girls were in good hands, he told himself. The Merridew twins would look after them.

Miss Hope looked up at him with those glorious blue eyes and said softly, stiffly. “You don’t need to worry, we’ll take good care of them. And I’m sure they’ll enjoy themselves.”

Sebastian swallowed. He tried not to look at the slight curve of her soft mouth, tried not to recall the taste, the feel of her lips under his.

Staring at that mouth, it occurred to Sebastian suddenly that he had never been to Green Park himself. He ought to ensure that it was a safe place for his sisters. For all he knew, it could attract the worst sort of riffraff. The footman was a sturdy-looking fellow, but he hadn’t impressed Sebastian when he’d acted groom. And there were five females to protect, six if you counted the maid.

He glanced at Miss Hope again and swallowed. It was extraordinary what that particular shade of blue silk did to her eyes. And her delicate complexion glowed.

He wondered whether the sprigged muslin was a foreign import or whether it was a local product. It would be useful to find out. As a textile manufacturer, he ought to know such things.

“I shall accompany you,” he announced.

Cassie immediately glared at him; Dorie’s face remained unreadable. The three Misses Merridew exchanged glances. The temperature in the vestibule dropped significantly. What the devil was up, he wondered. Each Merridew sister was regarding him with varying degrees of cool disapproval.

Miss Faith Merridew opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, Miss Hope said, “That would be delightful, Mr. Reyne, would it not, Faith?”

Her twin murmured something polite, looking anything but delighted.

They must have noticed Cassie’s knife, after all. He’d hoped that under the folds of sopping fabric yesterday the outline of the leather scabbard would not have been recognizable to ladies. Seemingly it had been. And the ladies blamed him.

Fair enough. Sebastian blamed himself, too.

The footman produced his coat, hat, and gloves, and Sebastian stepped out into the weak morning sunshine. To his surprise, no carriage awaited them, and he wondered if perhaps their great-uncle did not keep a carriage in town. He should call for his own, for it was a fair distance from Hill Street to Green Park, but before he could speak, the group was moving at a brisk pace down the street.

The footman and maid led the procession, next were Cassie and Grace, and then Miss Faith with Dorie’s hand held in hers. Cassie and Grace walked, arms linked and heads together, chattering like old friends instead of acquaintances of one day. He glanced at Dorie, walking silently and demurely with Miss Faith. He would give anything to see her chattering girlish nonsense like the other two.

“Coming?” Miss Hope prompted him. She seemed to have put away her earlier stiffness, though she was still cool and reserved compared to before.

“Sorry. Woolgathering,” he explained as they hurried down the street after the others.

“Your thoughts didn’t seem happy ones.”

“Not at all,” Sebastian said shortly. He wasn’t going to explain. The last time he’d confided in her, he’d almost kissed her—and in Hyde Park, of all public places! He’d already told her far too much. And somehow her arm had become tucked into the crook of his, which was a little unnerving, since he didn’t remember doing it—had vowed in fact never to do it again.

“I was merely wondering whether to order my carriage. Green Park seems rather a long way for ladies and young girls to walk.”

She laughed. “We don’t need a carriage. It’s such a pleasant morning, and whenever the weather is fine, we enjoy a brisk walk while we can. We were brought up in the country, you know, and are much addicted to walking. I hope you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind.” He drew her aside to avoid a man hurrying along with a large tray of muffins on his head. “But at this time of day the streets are full of clumsy oafs like that.” He nodded at the muffin man. “Tradespeople, butcher’s boys, servants, and all sorts of riffraff.”

“Yes, indeed. It’s so interesting, isn’t it?” she said, sniffing. “Don’t those muffins smell delicious? I never saw half so many different sorts of people in my life before I came to London. We lived a very restricted life before then.”

Sebastian grunted. It was not what he meant at all. He had meant that as a highborn lady, she ought to be sheltered from this sort of company. He was sure Lady Elinore would never walk such a distance to Green Park, relishing the crowded pavements and rubbing shoulders with the hoi polloi, despite her work with female orphans.

 
Apparently Green Park at this hour of the morning was the place for nurses to bring their charges out for air. It thronged with children. The Merridew girls seemed quite accustomed to the scene and happily ducked flying balls, bowling hoops, and pull-along carts as they made their way toward the herd of dairy cows. The air was filled with shrieks, laughter, piercing whistles, and one very persistent drum, where a squad of very short soldiers drilled with sticks. Sebastian had to wait at one point while Miss Hope stopped and fed an invisible apple to a wooden hobby horse and discussed its paces with its serious young rider.

By the time Miss Hope resumed the walk, Sebastian had slipped into a pensive mood. He’d never imagined children could live such carefree lives. If he ever had, he’d forgotten it.

The cows lowed and pushed as they waited to be milked. Dairymaids, under the supervision of the cowman, sat on low stools, milking busily. Creamy white milk spurted into pails. People lined up to purchase the fresh milk, bearing all sorts of containers with which to carry the milk home.

This was where the fresh milk for London ladies’ morning chocolate came from, Miss Faith explained to Sebastian’s sisters. They seemed fascinated by the cows. Sebastian was puzzled. He’d always believed Widow Morgan had taken them to live on her brother’s farm, yet they appeared fascinated by a sight he’d assumed they would have grown up with.

“Do cows not have beautiful eyes?” remarked Miss Hope. “Liquid amber, fathoms deep. I would love to have lovely eyes like that.”

Sebastian stared at her in amazement. “But your eyes are much loveli—” He broke off, recalling his resolution not to encourage any form of intimacy with her, and covered his lapse with a violent cough.

He was only here now to keep an eye on his sisters. And to investigate the source of the sprigged muslin Miss Hope was wearing. For business reasons. With determination, he turned away from Miss Hope and watched his sisters.

Cassie frowned as she watched the dairymaid’s strong hands pull rhythmically on the cow’s udders. Streams of creamy milk jetted into a bucket. “Does that not hurt the poor cow?” she asked.

The Merridews’ buxom maidservant answered, “Not a bit of it, missy. It’d hurt ’em more if they weren’t milked.”

Cassie looked to the twins for confirmation. Hope explained, “Lily lived on a farm before coming to work in my grandfather’s household.”

Sebastian raised a brow. “I thought Sir Oswald was your great uncle, not your grandfather.”

“He is. He is our grandfather’s brother,” Hope said.

Grace added fiercely, “Grandpapa is the biggest, horridest beast in the world, and we hate him!” She glanced at her sisters and added, “But we don’t live with him now, and so everything is all right.”

Sebastian waited for one of the twins to comment, but their footman arrived with a large jug of the fresh milk, and the moment was lost. Sebastian was disappointed. He would have liked to hear more about this grandfather. Young Grace was certainly very vehement.

“Now, girls, who would like a cup of milk?” Miss Faith asked. “I promise you, if you haven’t tasted fresh milk still warm from the cow, there’s a treat in store for you. Lily has the cups, and James will pour. Cassie? Dorie?”

Cassie and Grace nodded. Dorie hesitated, but to Sebastian’s surprise, she stepped forward and held out her hand. She sipped the milk gingerly, and then her solemn little face cleared, and she drank the whole cup down. Lily, the maidservant, grinned. “Tastes good, don’t it, missy? Want some more?”

Dorie cast her a fleeting smile and held out the cup again. Sebastian was stunned. He watched as the footman refilled the cup and passed it back to Dorie. She took it from him without hesitation and drained the cup.

Two cups of milk. It was the most Sebastian had seen her eat in one sitting. It was a start, he thought gratefully. He had done the right thing by bringing them to London. Thank God Miss Merridew had invited them to the park this morning. Thank God he’d gone with them. He might not otherwise have discovered Dorie would drink milk. Two cups of fresh milk each day might put some flesh on those frail little bones. It might put some roses in her cheeks . . .

What a morning; two smiles and two cups of milk.

Hope stood back, observing. The Reynes were an enigmatic little family. Cassie and Dorie seemed to want nothing to do with their big brother, and he almost never addressed them or engaged them in conversation.

Yet now he watched over them like a big, silent mastiff, and watching his face as the girls drank their milk, she could almost swear he was moved by the sight.

Though how she gained that impression, she couldn’t say; his was not an expressive face. It was a strong face, hard and uncompromising in some ways. Stubborn. And his eyes were hard and gray and bleak. But when they softened . . . and Hope had seen them soften . . . then he was quite a different-looking man.