“The family does not attend church on any regular basis, I am afraid. But it is not far from here, and I can easily give you its direction.”
He smiled. “Does the good parson have more to say from his pulpit than he had at dinner?” He did not wish to appear to be belittling the gentleman so added, “Perhaps he was in a thoughtful state of mind tonight?”
“No, no, my lord, he is quite reserved at all times.” She kept her eyes forward, but he could see a small smile. She had not mistaken his first question. “If you wish for a good fire-and-brimstone sermon, I am afraid you are doomed to disappointment.”
He laughed. “I would prefer something a little more in the middle, but I will let God handle what He feels I need to hear.” Somehow the next question was one he knew he wanted the answer to, but he did not realize it until this moment. “Do you attend services, ma’am?”
She sighed. “I am sorry to disappoint you on this front, as well. I believe God has quite given up on me, my lord. I have not done so for many years.” It was as if she knew he would ask more, so she turned the subject. “I presume you have attended St. George’s in London? I never got the chance, rather, I did not get the opportunity to view the church from the inside.”
“It is quite beautiful, to be sure. But there are times when I feel like the ones preaching there are a little prideful of their pulpit and make themselves of more consequence than their message.”
He waited for some comment from her, but none came. It appeared she did not wish to discuss God, though she had alluded to a time when she did.
“I did not visit many places, but I believe Richmond Park was—”
Charity interrupted rudely. “My lord, shall I play the pianoforte for you? You may turn the pages for me, if you would be so kind.”
He’d had more than enough of this spoiled child and her impoliteness, especially as it was more often than not aimed at her companion. He bristled and said, “Miss Charity, I am presently—”
This time it was Miss Montgomery who interrupted him. “Charity, I am sure that will make Lord Dalton feel quite like he is in a fashionable drawing room in London.” She turned to him. “You must excuse me, my lord. I have a few things I promised to prepare for the children in the morning. I will say good-night.”
She rose and bowed her head to him, then walked to the middle of the room and curtsied while she spoke small words of “excuse me” and “sleep well.” She even asked Charity if there was anything else she could do for her that evening. Dalton watched her leave the room, certain now that she had not wished to upset her spoiled charge.
He found himself getting angry. All at once he realized that perhaps that was the lot of a companion. He had met many each Season, but he had thought no more about them once the introductions had been made. Miss Montgomery was a lady. She had a past of some sort among the ton; she had told him so herself. To be relegated to such a position must be most degrading.
Worse yet, the only reason he noticed her was because he appreciated her conversation and preferred her to any other person in this household. God pricked his heart. He should treat everyone equally no matter their position in life, yet he had excluded an entire middle class, neither servant nor member of the peerage. He would change that, beginning now.
His thoughts were interrupted again by the beauty clearing her throat.
“I would be delighted to turn the pages for you,” he replied, with gritted teeth. Even this chit must be treated equally, he supposed. Only she surprised him and stopped playing. “Oh, my lord, this is too boring. I wish to give you some exciting news.”
“Charity?” her mother said, dragging out her name in question.
“Mama, I have thought of the very thing! We must throw a ball while Lord Dalton is here!”
“A ball?” cried Lady Dinsmore and Lord Dalton at precisely the same time.
“Perhaps not a ball per se, but we could have a party where we may introduce his lordship to our neighbors. And we may have music and dance the night away.” She ended this by twirling around with eyes closed like a child.
“Lady Dinsmore, I protest. I would never put you to so much trouble on my behalf. I specifically told Sir John I would not wish any such attention.”
“Sir John and I did speak of having a small dinner party while you were here, and should the children wish to roll back the rugs for a few dances, I should not object. We shall discuss it further when Sir John is free. And you cause us no trouble, whatsoever. Miss Montgomery has always been a big help to me in such areas. I quite look on her for all guidance when it comes to matters of Society.”
He was forced to allow the subject to drop, but he decided he would quit this room as soon as possible. He had feigned tiredness from a full day of riding, so excused himself when the tea tray arrived.
So here he was, alone in his room at the unseemly hour of ten o’clock. His Bible lay open on his lap. Lord, I only want to be free of this place. Perhaps You have brought me here for some purpose? Give me Your peace and grace to stay when impatience begs me to flee. And Lord, help me to focus on You and Your will as I face so many distractions.
He was distracted indeed. He could not stop thinking about the woman on the bridge last night. She caused so many emotions in his breast.
She was amazing! Her voice was rich and calming. Her bearing was regal; she was a lady, of that he was certain. He knew it was odd of him, considering it was he who asked her to come, but he was concerned about her visiting the bridge alone so late at night. What if he had taken her second visit as an invitation to something more? She was defenseless.
He was very attracted to her, and he was happy that he could in no way attribute that to her physical appearance. He used to tell himself often that even had Lady Kathryn not been so beautiful, he would still have been drawn to her. But because she was so beautiful, he really never knew that for certain.
But this fairy could be hideous—which would explain the hood—and he would still be attracted to her. She made him laugh. That had become very important to him. Even the most beautiful woman’s features would one day fade. He needed so much more in common with someone.
Only look at his preference for Miss Montgomery. When unencumbered by her charge, she was delightful. And even when the chit was near, he believed Miss Montgomery sensed his feelings easily and shared them, if only with a simple smile.
He had not chased after the woman last night. He did not want to snatch midnight meetings with her. He wanted to find her, get to know her. Sight unseen, she was too special to let go.
* * *
As Kathryn laid down her brush and donned her cotton night rail, she supposed she would just have to be herself—herself in a foolish wig, shoes and spectacles—and wait for the fortnight to end. She had no delusions, even after such short acquaintance; there would be no marriage between Lord Dalton and Charity. It was also clear he was already trying to invent ways to shorten his stay at the manor and decrease the amount of time he must politely spend with its inhabitants. Perhaps she would be lucky, and he would abort his stay and return to London. Yet a pang touched her heart at the thought.
Her life had changed so that his presence should be of absolutely no importance to her. And now, despite her sheer weariness of an hour ago, she was wide-awake, staring at the ceiling. She could not go downstairs for a book; she had only just left the drawing room complaining she could not keep her eyes open.
Suddenly she perked up, and the wheels in her mind began to turn. Could she go to the bridge? It was not yet ten o’clock; the family would be ensconced in the drawing room at least another hour with their guest. The locals never used the bridge after dark, no matter what the time. Indeed, witches, gnomes and trolls were her friends!
Even as she questioned herself, she