Slightly Married (27 page)

“You have been more than kind,” she said after drawing a steadying breath.

It felt final, like a farewell.

“You are chilly,” he said as she shivered. “We had better get back to the house.

“Yes.”

But a few moments passed before he offered her his arm. As if there were more to say when, of course, there was not.

C
HAPTER XXI

T
HE FOLLOWING MORNING BROUGHT WITH IT A SPECIAL
delivery in the form of an invitation to Colonel Bedwyn and Lady Aidan Bedwyn from the Countess of Luff to attend a garden party at Didcote Park two days hence.

“I have no wish to go,” Eve said after reading it aloud to her aunt and Aidan at the breakfast table.

“Oh, but you must,” her aunt said, clasping her hands to her bosom. “It is the first time you have been invited. Serena will be delighted—you know she has been vowing not to go herself unless you will be there too, my love.”

Aidan looked at Eve and raised his eyebrows.

“It is an annual event,” she explained. “Very exclusive. Only the best families get invited. The Morrises have never been among their number. Of course, now I am a Bedwyn and eminently respectable.”

“And you have been presented to the queen,” her aunt added.

“Yes, that too.” Eve's eyes were twinkling with amusement. “Last year I was not good enough, but this year I am. I will not go.”

“I beg your pardon,” Aidan said. “Does the invitation not include me too? What if I wish to attend?”

She grimaced. “You could not possibly. Could you?”

“The thing is, Eve,” he said, “that you will be living at Ringwood for the rest of your life. All your neighbors appear to be also your friends—with the exception of Luff and his countess until now. Why not be on good terms with them too if it is possible?”

“The invitation has arrived almost indecently late,” she said. “The others were sent out a long time ago. Of course, you called at Didcote Park, and the Duke of Bewcastle himself put in an appearance at the assembly rooms. Suddenly I am a pariah no longer.”

“Are you bitter?” he asked.

“No, of course not.” She laughed at him.

“Then prove it,” he told her. “Accept the invitation—for both of us.”

Mrs. Pritchard still had her hands clasped to her bosom. “That's it, Colonel,” she said. “You make her see sense. I want to hear all about it down to the smallest little detail when you come home. And a garden party is such a romantic thing, with all sorts of groves and arbors and grottoes for people to disappear into—in couples, of course.”

“Why would
we
want to do that,” Eve asked, though Aidan was interested to notice that she blushed, “when it is a social event we would be attending?”

“
Will be
attending,” Aidan corrected.

He had promised Davy that they would take his cricket set outside this morning if the weather was still fine—and it was. They would set up the wickets on the lawn, he had said, and he would teach the boy enough of the rudiments of the game that they could play and enjoy themselves. Later he was going to give Davy a riding lesson in the paddock behind the stables, having discovered that he had not yet learned to ride. He excused himself from the breakfast table.

He had had a night of disturbed sleep. He had stayed too long. Oh, not in one way, perhaps. He had helped relax the children after the disturbing experience of being hauled away from their new home by the village constable. He had helped provide them with some pleasant summer experiences, some sense of family and stability. He had redeemed himself in Eve's eyes, he hoped, after his often high-handed behavior in London, so that she would perhaps have kinder memories of him than she would otherwise have had.

But he had stayed too long. He had fallen deeply in love with her and would suffer for a long time after leaving her, he knew. But just last evening, when they had walked down into the dell, she had told him that she would be happy after he had gone and that she would always remember him with gratitude.

Gratitude!
The word had cut him as deeply as the ugliest curse would have done. At least there would be passion in a curse. She would always remember him with gratitude.

He was going to have to do the honorable thing and stop delaying his departure, he had decided while he tossed and turned in bed, trying to find some release in sleep. Yet now he had found a reason to stay three more days. But was it reason or excuse? It
was
important for Eve to be fully accepted socially in her neighborhood. But . . .

But there was a cricket game to organize.

H
E HAD TOLD HER THAT HE WOULD BE LEAVING THE
morning after the garden party.

Freyja had written to her, Eve. It was a witty letter, filled with perceptive and rather caustic observations on the people and events involved in the victory celebrations she had attended. But her letter also announced her intention of leaving town and returning to Lindsey Hall. She wondered if Eve would care to join her there for the summer. Eve was firmly determined to stay at home, but Aidan had decided to go and spend what remained of his leave with his two sisters.

“It is time for me to take myself out of your life, Eve,” he had said.

“Yes.”

“And return to
my
life.”

“Yes.”

She had been unable to form any other words, but had concentrated upon smiling at him with what she hoped was just the right degree of cheerful acceptance and polite regret. Yes, it
was
time. If he stayed much longer, she surely would not be able to let him go at all, but would disgrace herself by clinging to him and begging him not to leave her.

There were two days left, the first already well advanced after a vigorous game of cricket, in which Eve and Becky took part as well as the Reverend Puddle, who had come to Ringwood on some flimsy excuse and proved himself to be a very creditable bowler, especially when Aidan was in at bat. Thelma, Benjamin, and Aunt Mari formed an enthusiastic cheering section, applauding both sides indiscriminately. So when Aidan told Eve that he would be leaving, there were really just one and a half days left, to be followed by the garden party day. And then . . .

Eve concentrated upon enjoying to the full what time was left, cramming it with as many activities as she could dream up, trying desperately to live for the present moment and not look ahead to a time that would come soon enough anyway.

She and Becky watched Aidan give Davy a riding lesson in the paddock. When the boy looked reasonably confident, Eve suggested that they all go riding, and they did, Davy's pony on a leading-rein held by Aidan, who settled Becky up before him on the saddle, Eve riding her horse alongside. Later they went strolling through the wilderness walk and ended up playing a game of hide-and-seek among the trees and bushes, the children's shouts of laughter and merriment betraying their hiding places every time.

They played cricket and rode again on the second day and later took a picnic tea down into the dell with Aunt Mari, Thelma, the vicar, and Benjamin. Before tea all of them except Aunt Mari walked one behind the other along the middle of the brook, Benjamin astride the Reverend Puddle's shoulders, stepping from one stone to another, their arms out to the sides for balance—even Muffin ventured off the bank to search for fish. There was an occasional exclamation from one of them as a stone was missed and a shod foot was immersed in the water, and laughter from the others. After tea they sang—led by Eve and Aunt Mari, who added a rich contralto harmony to Eve's soprano. Aidan commented in apparent disgust that he might have known two Welsh ladies would burst into song sooner or later—and then he joined in with a very creditable baritone harmony. The others added their voices with varying degrees of musicality.

On the morning of the garden party, they took Aunt Mari driving along country lanes and stopped to pick her so many wildflowers—Eve and the children did the picking—that she looked rather like a flower bush that had sprouted a head, according to Aidan. There was a great deal of chatter and laughter, a fair share of it coming from Davy, Eve was delighted to notice. He had blossomed into a little boy during the past week. How was Aidan's departure going to affect him? But she would not think of that today. Tomorrow would be soon enough. By this time tomorrow . . .

For a moment she felt as if the bottom were falling out of her stomach.

D
ESPITE HERSELF
E
VE WAS RATHER EXCITED TO BE
attending the garden party at Didcote, about which she had heard so much in past years. And this year the weather was perfect for an outdoor entertainment. It was sunny and hot with just a slight breeze to provide some welcome coolness. Eve wore a pretty sprigged muslin dress with a flower-trimmed straw bonnet, both part of her newly acquired wardrobe, neither of which had been worn before. Aidan was dressed smartly, though not in his uniform.

The terrace before the house was decked with a profusion of brightly colored flowers in large pots. There were tables in the shade, covered with crisp white cloths and laden with large jugs of lemonade and stronger drinks and plates of small delicacies, both savory and sweet. Smart, liveried footmen waited behind the tables to assist guests with their choices. Huge pots of flowers had been set out on the newly cut lawns too, and a few smaller ones had been hung from tree branches. Tables and chairs had been set out, some beneath the shade of trees, some in the sunshine but with umbrellas to provide protection from the sun. Some colorful blankets had been spread on the grass for those who preferred to recline more at their ease.

There were already a number of guests present when Eve and Aidan arrived, some sitting, others strolling or standing in groups, conversing. A few of the more energetic were playing bowls on a flat side lawn. Two couples with racquets were hitting a ball back and forth across a net that had been set up beside the bowling green. The Earl and Countess of Luff were standing on the terrace, receiving newcomers.

So was John.

“Oh, no,” Eve said involuntarily as she spotted him from the carriage window.

Aidan followed the line of her vision. “I suppose,” he said, “that if you are to be in social contact with your neighbors at Didcote Park, you will inevitably be in contact too with Denson from time to time. It is not something you can avoid forever.”

“It was your idea,” she reminded him, “that I come here, Aidan. I would have preferred to stay at home.”

“One cannot always run and hide from life,” he said. “It is best never even to try, but simply to face what must be faced.”

There was no time to say more. The carriage drew to a halt, Sam Patchett jumped down from his place on the box to open the door and set down the steps, and the next moment Eve was smiling and curtsying and being presented by the Earl of Luff to the countess and his son.

“I am to congratulate you on your marriage, Lady Aidan,” the countess said graciously, “and your connection with Bewcastle and the Bedwyns. You are on an extended leave from your military duties, Colonel Bedwyn?”

“A leave of two months, ma'am,” he said, “rapidly coming to an end, I am afraid.”

“I had the honor of attending Lady Aidan's presentation ball at Bedwyn House, Mother,” John said, his smile directed fully at Eve. “One would have to say that during her short stay in town she became all the rage.”

Serena Robson, having spotted Eve across the lawn, came hurrying up at that moment, both hands extended.

“You have arrived,” she said, kissing Eve's cheek. “Do come and join James and me beneath that beech tree. You too, Colonel. I have hardly set eyes on either of you since your return from London. I want to hear all about it. Every juicy morsel.”

They sat beneath the tree for half an hour, sipping cool drinks while Eve gave an account of her presentation to the queen and Aidan added with dry humor the details of the black gown and his family's reaction to it. After that the men wandered away to watch the bowling and Serena looked after them, sighing.

“He is not handsome, Eve, is he?” she said. “But he is undeniably distinguished looking and—oh, yes, indeed he is. He is a quite extraordinarily
attractive
man. James and I have been delighted that you have spent time together after all, both in town and here. He came back here to help you rescue those poor children, and rumor has it that he has been taking them about with him and even
playing
with them in the days since. Is there any hope—”

“He is leaving tomorrow,” Eve said quickly. “He has so little time left in England. He needs to spend what remains with his sisters at Lindsey Hall.”

Serena leaned across the table to set a hand over hers, but they were interrupted by a new arrival.

“May I join you ladies?” John asked.

“But of course,” Serena said, indicating one of the empty chairs. “Please do.”

“There is no place to compare with England in beauty, you know,” he said, “especially the English countryside on a warm summer day. Sometimes it takes a year away in a foreign land, though, to make one fully appreciate that fact.”

“You have been in Russia,” Serena said. “You must tell us some of your experiences with polite society there. Is it elegant, refined, sophisticated?”

Eve listened to him as he talked, to his light, pleasant voice, and she looked at his handsome face with its perfect features and white teeth and the beginnings of laugh lines at the corners of his eyes. She watched his hands, slim, expressive, well manicured. He knew how to please and how to charm. She noticed how other ladies were aware of him and kept glancing at him, his blond hair bright and gleaming even beneath the shade of the tree.