The Lady's Second-Chance Suitor by Scott, Regina (christmas read aloud txt) 📗

she hadn’t planned itthat way all along. “Mr. Donner might suffice. I must have someone to conversewith while you make eyes at Hester.”

Rob crossed his arms over his chest. “Why Donner? Surelythere are other interesting fellows at the spa.”

She made a face. “Fewer than you might think this time ofyear. And I like Mr. Donner. He makes me smile.”

For that alone, he could bless the fellow. “Very well. But Imust ask, Elizabeth: what are your feelings toward Donner?”

His forthright, self-assured sister dropped her gaze and setabout straightening some of the books on the shelf. “He seems personable.”

“That is not what I asked.”

She was turned half away from him, but he could see the pinkcreeping into her cheek. “I told you I like him.”

“Now who’s avoiding commitment?”

She seized a book and turned to face him as if prepared tohurl it at him. “I am not opposed to commitment, but I will not be pushed intomarriage by you or anyone else.”

Rob held up his hands. “Far be it from me to disagree. Youhave an inheritance from Mother. You have reached your majority. You don’t needmy support or permission.”

She set the book back into place more gently than she’dpulled it out. “Thank you. Now, let’s talk more about this dinner party.”

Chapter Thirteen

Rob hadn’t pursued her. Hester had hopedhe might. She’d actually looked back once as she’d ridden off, but the grassesof the Downs had stretched away in the distance, barren and empty. Her life hadfelt as empty.

That was silly. She had a fine life. She was a mother,sister, daughter, and teacher. She made a difference. She thanked God for thatwhen she, her mother, and Rebecca attended services at St. Mary’s on Sunday.She thanked Him again as she spent the afternoon with her darling daughter. Andshe thanked Him once more as she lay down on her bed and tried to forcethoughts of Rob Peverell from her mind at last.

Yet, as she returned to school on Monday, she could not helpbut notice that she wasn’t as patient with Jimmy when he spoke out of turn inclass. She wasn’t nearly as cheerful when Mrs. Mance informed her that thevillage elders had agreed to fund the school another year. Nor was she asattentive as she walked Rebecca home, mind going to what might have beeninstead of what was, so that she had to ask her daughter to repeat herself.

That was intolerable. She would not allow Rob to come betweenher and Rebecca.

“Your birthday will be here soon,” she reminded her daughteras they climbed the short stairs to the door of her mother’s house. “What shouldwe do to celebrate?”

Rebecca brightened as they entered the house. “A cake. Withplums. Big enough for everyone.”

“Everyone?” Hester asked with a smile, removing her bonnet.“How many people will be celebrating with us?”

“Aunt Rosemary, the earl, Lady Miranda, Jimmy,” she rattledoff before pausing for a breath. “And Lord Peverell.”

Oh, her daughter could not know what hearing that name didto her equilibrium. “Lord Peverell will likely be too busy,” Hester explainedas she removed Rebecca’s bonnet as well. “He may not even be visiting by then.He must return to his home in London.”

Rebecca frowned. “He doesn’t live in London. He has a bighouse on the cliff above St. Andrew’s. Lady Miranda told me.”

“That is his summer house,” Hester explained. “His ancestralhome is in Wiltshire, but he spends much of his time in London.”

Her daughter’s frown only grew. “He has threehouses?”

He might have more, as far as Hester knew. He’d said he hadover two hundred staff and tenants, after all.

“Think of them as places he sometimes is,” she tried.“You’re sometimes here, sometimes at church, and sometimes at school.”

“Oh.” She slipped her hand into Hester’s as they started upthe stairs. “Well, I hope he is sometimes here when it’s my birthday.”

“Hester!”

Her mother’s urgent cry stopped her on the stairs. “Go up toNurse Peters, Rebecca,” she urged her daughter.

“Is Grandmother all right?” she asked, face puckering.

“Hester!” The name sounded positively breathless. “You mustsee this!”

“I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Hester promised, giving the girla little push up the stairs. Rebecca hurried to the chamber story, and Hesterplunged for the ground floor.

She found her mother in the sitting room, fanning herselfwith a missive. As soon as she saw Hester, she hurried forward in a flurry ofspruce green wool and thrust the parchment at her.

“Well, go on,” she demanded when Hester hesitated. “Read it.Oh, it is beyond anything.”

Afraid of what she might find, Hester took the letter andscanned it. She’d thought perhaps there’d been a death in the family, a distantcousin perhaps, since surely any of their family in the area would have come totell them rather than sending a note. But the paper, scented faintly oflavender, said something else entirely.

She sank onto the sofa, fingers clutching the parchment.“Miss Peverell is inviting us to dine with her and her brother?”

Her mother nodded, grey curls bobbing. “Can you imagine?”

No, she could not. Viscounts did not invite the wife anddaughter of a Riding Officer to dine. More likely they might ask to seereferences before hiring them for some menial duty.

“I’m not sure what this means,” Hester started.

Her mother clasped her hands in front of her green gown. “Iknow exactly what this means. Lord Peverell favors you, just as I said.”

It was as if a spring breeze danced through the room,brightening, warming. Oh, traitor heart! Yet, what other explanation couldthere be, particularly after her challenge on the Downs on Saturday?

Rob Peverell had decided to court her.

She clutched the invitation to her chest, then lowered itand forced her voice to come out even.

“We mustn’t get our hopes up, Mother. Just because he hasinvited us to dine does not mean anything will come of it.”

“And everything might come of it,” her mother insisted. Sheseized Hester’s hands, pulling her up and crumbling the invitation in theprocess. “Don’t you see, my girl? This could be the making of you.”

Hester pulled away, leaving the parchment in her mother’shands. “I rather thought I was the making of me.”

“You’ve done well,” her mother assured her, smoothing thepaper with her free