Page 19 of Souvenir of Love

Anne feigned a yawn, smothering it with a red-gloved hand. “Last night’s party…so many details that required my personal attention.”

“I can only imagine,” Alix replied so pleasantly, it was almost impossible to detect the river of sarcasm flowing beneath her words.

“But I wanted everything to have that perfect Dinsmore touch.” She smiled at Elizabeth.

“And it did, Anne, truly it did,” Alix said dryly. “You have a gift for making an impression; it seems your hand is in everything.” She smiled at Sir Edmund.

“As I was just saying to Lady Anne,” Sir Edmund said earnestly, “Lady Anne, you outdid yourself last night. Everywhere at once, seeing to everyone’s needs. I told her, ‘Lady Anne, you mustn’t overdo it, a delicate thing like yourself. Mustn’t tire yourself out.’ Why, I knew a woman once who died of exhaustion.”

All three women turned to stare at him.

He blinked and cleared his throat.

“Sir Edmund is a wise man,” Alix said, breaking the silence. “It can be dangerous to overdo things.” She leaned forward in her saddle. “And you do look a trifle drawn, Anne. I hear that tea-soaked cloths will do wonders for puffiness around the eyes.”

Sir Edmund’s round head bobbed above his lace stock. “Excellent properties tea has, most excellent. Made my fortune importing the stuff, don’t you know? Family used to be sheepherders, can you imagine?”

For a moment, Lady Anne looked as if she could imagine Sir Edmund dried, chopped, and boiled. “Sir Edmund has considerable properties in London and in the country.”

“For your flocks?” Elizabeth couldn’t resist inquiring.

Sir Edmund chuckled. “No indeed; my family moved out of that business. Decades ago, of course, Tudor times. You see first we?—”

“Such a shame,” Anne said swiftly to sever a discussion of her companion’s involvement in trade, however many centuries removed, “that James couldn’t join us this morning.”

Elizabeth stiffened.

“But he had so many things to do. An appointment with his tailor, shopping for handkerchiefs.” She waved a gloved hand. “Such a busy, busy man, my brother.” Her pale-blue eyes rested on Elizabeth and she smiled. “If I see him this evening, before he goes out, shall I give him your regards?”

“That woman,”Elizabeth exclaimed, striding into the sitting room where they had been sewing earlier, “is impossible! I’d like to…to…” Her eyes caught a glint of silver at the corner of Alix’s embroidery hoop. “I’d like to stitch her thin lips shut.”

“Is that all?” asked Alix, eyeing a pair of silver scissors. “Wouldn’t you prefer to cut her tongue out first?”

Elizabeth started to laugh, a laugh she couldn’t control, a laugh that rolled, and twisted and turned into a cry. Her back lost its starch, her shoulders slumped, she dropped into a chair and let tears flood her palms.

“I instructedyou not to let Elizabeth stray from the house today.” Rafe’s voice was calm, but sparks flared in his eyes. “I told you no good could come of it.”

“I know you did and I had every intention of obeying…but Elizabeth…” Alix stopped pacing.

“Convinced you otherwise,” he said, frustration threading his voice.

She nodded. “She was so restless, and she kept glancing out the window, checking the front drive.”

“For Dinsmore, no doubt.”

“I thought perhaps a quick turn in the park might help her see things more clearly.”

“I gather it did,” he said grimly.

“It was awful, Rafe, you cannot imagine. She was cut directly five times—the last time by some snippy miss from the country.”

The muscles around his jaw tensed.

“And the men, if you could have seen how they leered at her. One of them, one had the nerve to gesture…with his tongue.” Alix’s voice quavered.

Rafe drew back his chair and patted his knee. “Come, sweetheart.” His arm curved around her as she settled in his lap. He wrapped one of her long mahogany curls around his fingers. “And Elizabeth, how did she bear up?”

“With tremendous dignity. You would have been proud.”