wife could not be comfortable in London, or might be exposed as an imposter anytime, then he would never forgive me. I would never forgive myself.”
Katie nodded, not wanting to look at him. “And I could never forgive myself for letting my daughter wed a man to whom such an insignificant thing would matter. If he loves her, it is for herself, not for what name she bears, or does not. We shall tell both of them, together. If your nephew cries off, Susannah must know the reason, lest she think herself to blame.”
“After dinner?”
“Definitely not before! Or during.”
Dinner was more formal than the last one at Cole Cottage, mainly due to the presence of Gerald’s disapproving mother. Gerald spoke to young Doddsworth about horses, his sisters batted their eyelashes at the younger Doddsworth boys hard enough to cool the soup, and the squire and Agnes Wellforde seemed to be competing over who could eat more.
With ham, mutton, beef, and chicken on the menu, there was nothing parsimonious about this evening’s offering. Katie felt proud of her table, glad that no one could complain about the simply cooked but ample meal, not even the dog. Gerald’s mother took hearty portions of everything, then fed some to her pet.
Katie wanted to throw a dish at the woman, but they were her good plates. Young Crispin was deemed too unmannerly to sit with the adults, but the Pekingese had a place on Agnes’s ample lap? Besides, the dog was gobbling down food that could have fed the Cole Cottage residents for another day, at least.
But she stayed smiling, the perfect hostess, and led the ladies out of the dining parlor when the meal was finally over. Susannah and the Wellforde girls—Katie had not learned which was which yet—were giggling over something, and Mrs. Wellforde was napping after her huge repast. Katie took her place at the pianoforte, hoping to ease her nerves with her beloved music.
Forde hurried the gentlemen through their port, fearful of what offensive remarks Agnes might make. Half of the gentlemen were mere boys, besides, so they did not need to smoke or drink, in his opinion. With so little to offer, and no cards likely, either, Doddsworth decided to leave. The two families that were about to unite ought to have some private time together, he declared. Besides, he and his boys were planning a foray after fish early in the morning before church. Forde and his son were invited.
Dawn was not a part of the day Forde usually saw from the bright side, but he said he would consider the invitation, for Crispin’s sake. After the manor party left, Forde took a seat next to Mrs. Cole on the pianoforte bench, thinking that he might never tire of her proficient playing, or her rapt expression as she gave herself to the music. For that matter, he might never tire of the small, rare smile she gave him when he praised her performance between pieces. She was wearing the same dark-colored gown, which he would grow bored with, even if it did reveal more of her bosom than the sacklike frocks she wore during the day. He would dress her in green velvet, as soft as her skin, as sultry as moonlight. Then he would undress her, caress her, make her beautiful body—
“Sing?” He coughed. “You want me to sing with you?”
She looked at him oddly. “That is what I asked. Your nephew said you had a fine voice, and I would not wish to bore your sister-in-law with my continued playing.”
Agnes was already sleeping off her dinner in the most comfortable chair in the room. Susannah and Gerald were whispering in the corner, as usual.
Without waiting for his reply, Katie opened a new score sheet and began to play. Thank heavens he knew the words, for Forde did not know himself anymore. He had never been so attracted to any woman, had never been so often or so awkwardly aroused over a virtuous female. Botheration.
“I believe that is ’both a robin and a sparrow.’ Shall we begin again?”
They did, and this time he paid
Katie nodded, not wanting to look at him. “And I could never forgive myself for letting my daughter wed a man to whom such an insignificant thing would matter. If he loves her, it is for herself, not for what name she bears, or does not. We shall tell both of them, together. If your nephew cries off, Susannah must know the reason, lest she think herself to blame.”
“After dinner?”
“Definitely not before! Or during.”
Dinner was more formal than the last one at Cole Cottage, mainly due to the presence of Gerald’s disapproving mother. Gerald spoke to young Doddsworth about horses, his sisters batted their eyelashes at the younger Doddsworth boys hard enough to cool the soup, and the squire and Agnes Wellforde seemed to be competing over who could eat more.
With ham, mutton, beef, and chicken on the menu, there was nothing parsimonious about this evening’s offering. Katie felt proud of her table, glad that no one could complain about the simply cooked but ample meal, not even the dog. Gerald’s mother took hearty portions of everything, then fed some to her pet.
Katie wanted to throw a dish at the woman, but they were her good plates. Young Crispin was deemed too unmannerly to sit with the adults, but the Pekingese had a place on Agnes’s ample lap? Besides, the dog was gobbling down food that could have fed the Cole Cottage residents for another day, at least.
But she stayed smiling, the perfect hostess, and led the ladies out of the dining parlor when the meal was finally over. Susannah and the Wellforde girls—Katie had not learned which was which yet—were giggling over something, and Mrs. Wellforde was napping after her huge repast. Katie took her place at the pianoforte, hoping to ease her nerves with her beloved music.
Forde hurried the gentlemen through their port, fearful of what offensive remarks Agnes might make. Half of the gentlemen were mere boys, besides, so they did not need to smoke or drink, in his opinion. With so little to offer, and no cards likely, either, Doddsworth decided to leave. The two families that were about to unite ought to have some private time together, he declared. Besides, he and his boys were planning a foray after fish early in the morning before church. Forde and his son were invited.
Dawn was not a part of the day Forde usually saw from the bright side, but he said he would consider the invitation, for Crispin’s sake. After the manor party left, Forde took a seat next to Mrs. Cole on the pianoforte bench, thinking that he might never tire of her proficient playing, or her rapt expression as she gave herself to the music. For that matter, he might never tire of the small, rare smile she gave him when he praised her performance between pieces. She was wearing the same dark-colored gown, which he would grow bored with, even if it did reveal more of her bosom than the sacklike frocks she wore during the day. He would dress her in green velvet, as soft as her skin, as sultry as moonlight. Then he would undress her, caress her, make her beautiful body—
“Sing?” He coughed. “You want me to sing with you?”
She looked at him oddly. “That is what I asked. Your nephew said you had a fine voice, and I would not wish to bore your sister-in-law with my continued playing.”
Agnes was already sleeping off her dinner in the most comfortable chair in the room. Susannah and Gerald were whispering in the corner, as usual.
Without waiting for his reply, Katie opened a new score sheet and began to play. Thank heavens he knew the words, for Forde did not know himself anymore. He had never been so attracted to any woman, had never been so often or so awkwardly aroused over a virtuous female. Botheration.
“I believe that is ’both a robin and a sparrow.’ Shall we begin again?”
They did, and this time he paid
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