A Lesson in Forgiveness Page 5

  Smiling the fake smile of pretending you care, Ginny replied, “How nice for you. I have not yet spoken to him, but he seems a very astute fellow.” Ginny wondered for a moment if any of the girls picked up on her sarcasm.

  Alvinia, who was just warming up, continued to regale the troop with all the compliments she'd received over the past two days. Rolling her eyes and praying for patience, Ginny stood still and waited to be saved. Alvinia was that girl in high school who absolutely knew she was better than everyone else and had no qualms about letting you know exactly what was wrong with you, in the hopes of masking her own insecurity.

  “Really, Trinity, you need to stand up straighter. No man likes a slouch.” Turning an eye to Ginny, she said, “Miss Hamilton, Bethany, isn't it?” Ginny nodded. “I believe you should discuss with your maid your hairstyle. It seems a bit old fashioned to me.” This caused a round of nervous giggles from the group.

  Ginny smiled and said, “Thank you, Alvinia. I shall consider doing just that. I should tell you that you have something in your teeth. I believe it may be parsley.”

  Gasping, Alvinia quickly left the room in search of a mirror. All the girls looked at Ginny with something close to awe. Ginny guessed that up until that point, they were too afraid to speak a word against Miss Slowden-Plough. There was only one way to handle a bullies: humiliate them.

  The men began to rejoin the group, so the giggle fest was about to begin. Putting on a face of blank contentment, Ginny wandered to the other side of the room, once again taking her position at the window. Who will approach me tonight, she thought, not really caring if anyone did. One of the best things about living someone else's life was that you could totally screw it up and not care otherwise.

  Tonight it would be Lord Huntington's turn. He was older, probably into his forties, with attractive eyes and graying hair. He was soft spoken, but as Ginny had sarcastically stated earlier, quite astute. Luckily for Ginny, he wasn't prone to flattery or hyperbole like some of the other gentlemen. All in all, they had a very satisfying conversation about his country home in Suffolk.

  Later when readying for bed, Tabby asked how the evening went. Putting on her nightgown, Ginny sat to have her hair let down and said, “I am beginning to realize that none of these men care about me.” Tabby snorted as if to say no kidding.

  Laughing, Ginny continued, “I mean, none of them ask questions about me. I know all about Lord Clarendon's childhood and Mr. Thompson's love of Miss Jennings and Lord Huntington's country home in Suffolk. But I can't remember a single one of them asking me what I like to do or where I live most of the year. Do men not want to know anything about the woman they might marry?”

  “I think not, miss. I believe they are more interested in knowing that you can make polite conversation and not embarrass them. They may want to know if you plan to spend all their money.”

  “What a shame. How about you, Tabby? Do you have anyone special in your life?” It pained Ginny to have to ask. After having Tabby as a maid for over two years, she realized that Bethany knew absolutely nothing about her. As far as she was concerned, Tabby was a non-person.

  Blushing, Tabby kept brushing Ginny's hair. Finally, when Ginny thought she wouldn't fess up, Tabby said quietly, “The head groomsman at your parent's estate and I are familiar. He had brought me flowers on my birthday.”

  “Well, Tabby, if I have the good grace to get married, I will promise you this. I will hire my parent's groomsman and bring him with us. You certainly deserve love in your life as well.”

  Blinking back the tears, she bowed and left the room for the night. Ginny stood for a moment beside her open window and looked out at the garden below. Smelling the jasmine and roses, she enjoyed the gentle breeze that cooled down the room. Smiling, she went to bed.

  Outside her room, down in the garden, Lord Whitmore wandered his domain, keeping to the shadows as he smoked his cigar. Catching a glimpse of Miss Hamilton at her bedroom window, he stopped and stared. With the light behind her, he could clearly see the outline of her body through the thin cotton of her night gown. He noticed her long legs, her curved hips and especially, her large breasts.

  He found himself looking forward to tomorrow's outing with her. Now that he knew that she knew he was unavailable, it seemed safe enough. If only he could get over this feeling like he was missing out on something. At least if she married Clarendon, he could still talk to her on occasion. Frowning slightly, he just didn't know if that would be enough.

  Chapter 6

  Tabby entered the room less reticent that morning, now that Ginny had forged a new relationship between them. Setting down the hot water, Tabby went about choosing clothing for the day.

  “I am thinking you should wear the yellow dress today, miss.”

  “Oh, Tabby, I forgot to tell you. I'm going riding with Lord Whitmore today.”

  “Really?” It wasn't so much the word she used as how she said it. Like there was more to Ginny and the dull earl than she let on the day before.

  “Yes, really. I told you he has no interest in marrying.”

  “Then why does he have such an interest in spending time with you?” Ginny realized at the moment how much Tabby reminded her of Lisa, her best friend from her own time period. Not so subtle sarcasm, mixed with genuine friendship. It made her sad for a moment realizing it.

  “Are you saying I have nothing to offer a man but marriage?” Two could play at that game.

  Silent for moment, clearly considering her words carefully, she said, “You have a lot to offer. I doubt any gentlemen within fifty miles could see it though.” Smiling, Ginny thought that she met Lisa's former self, if she had believed in reincarnation.

  “Thank you for the compliment. Now, what am I wearing?”

  “You have a lovely red riding habit. Who will be chaperoning you this early in the morning?”

  “No one. Lord Whitmore feels that if we stick to open spaces, it should not be a problem being unchaperoned.”

  “Really.” There was that word again. Ginny decided to continue getting washed up and ignore all the implications of that one word.

  Entering the breakfast room, Ginny found Lord Whitmore already sitting down, waiting for his breakfast. As soon as he saw her enter, he jumped up and pulled out the chair across from his. He felt ridiculous. He woke up early in anticipation of their ride today.

  “Thank you, my lord.” Ginny noticed he seemed more animated today. Pearce entered with his breakfast and quickly turned to her.

  “Would you care for some eggs and toast again this morning, miss?”

  “Yes, thank you, Pearce.”

  “Cook has made up kidneys this morning.”

  Yikes, did he say kidneys? As in the bodily organ? “No thank you, Pearce. Not this morning. I would, however, like some coffee please.”

  “Very good, miss.” And with that, he disappeared behind the corner door.

  Ginny observed that Whitmore was watching her carefully, not eating his breakfast.

  “Please don't wait for me, my lord. I wouldn't want your breakfast to get cold.” It seemed more fun to flirt with him now that she knew nothing would come of it. He was safe and they could be friends. She didn't have to worry about doing exactly the right thing. She could almost be herself.

  He regarded her for another moment and went about buttering his toast. “Are you enjoying yourself, Miss Hamilton?”

  “Yes, I am. I have been fortunate enough to receive not only your attention, but the attention of a few of your guests.”

  “Lord Clarendon speaks quite highly of you.”

  “Does he? I'm glad. He regaled me with stories of his youth yesterday. Quite the scamp.”

  “Did he tell you that we went to school together?” Whitmore now worried about what Clarendon may have told her of his childhood. He hadn't been nearly as reserved as he was now.

  “Yes. He said that he spent most of his time trying to get you into trouble and you spent most of your time trying to keep him
out of it. He didn't mention, however, who was more successful.”

  Quirking his lip into a smirk, he replied, “Unfortunately, Miss Hamilton, Lord Clarendon was more successful.”

  “Really. I should hope you will have some stories to tell me while we ride this morning.” Ginny found she was very interested in hearing how this staunch earl got into trouble.

  Pearce returned with her breakfast and they ate in companionable silence. When finished, Whitmore pulled her chair out for her and provided his arm. As they walked out the door, Pearce handed Whitmore his riding crop and hat. Ginny took the time to attach her hat as well while gazing in the hallway mirror.

  On their way to the stables, Ginny began to feel anxious about their ride. She could feel her steps slowing as they made their way across the cobblestones of the courtyard. The huge butterflies in her stomach were now making her nauseous. Fine beads of sweat broke out across her forehead and her breathing became unsteady. Ginny didn't know if she could do it.

  Ginny had ridden horses before, but never sidesaddle. The thought of one of her legs dangling uselessly made her stomach do all new flips. She hadn't really cared to ride astride either, but at least she felt a little more in control. Whitmore noticed her hesitation.

  “Are you alright, Miss Hamilton?”

  Stopping him, Ginny turned to him and begged, “Please tell me we won't gallop or go very fast or jump over anything.”

  Staring into her eyes, seeing her fear, Whitmore felt awful, like he was throwing her to the wolves. “I promise we shall take only a leisurely ride, no fences and no hard riding. I merely want to show you around the estate. If you would prefer, we could take my curricle.”

  Curricle? What's a curricle? she thought to herself frantically. It had to be better, but something stopped her from agreeing. Ginny liked a challenge and as long as they went slow, she figured it was better than chickening out.

  “No. I think we should ride. I appreciate you being willing to take it slow. I'm sorry if it will ruin the ride for you.”

  His face was unreadable, but he seemed to be stifling a smile. Clearing his throat, he looked at her with all due seriousness. “The pleasure of the ride is spending time with an intelligent lady of information. Not charging the hills as if in battle.”

  Letting out a sigh of relief, Ginny smiled. Her breathing calmed down and she wasn't as sweaty. “Thank you, my lord, for being so understanding and not making fun of me.”

  As they continued on their way to the stables he said, “I would not make fun of you, Miss Hamilton. That would be very ungentlemanly, would it not?”

  “Yes, but that doesn't always stop someone from doing something, does it?”

  “No, it does not. I do try to be a gentleman most of the time.” Quirking his eyebrow and looking down into her eyes as they walked, he made her smile. He was full of simple gestures that spoke volumes. There weren't many people who could express so much with only their facial expressions.

  Whitmore chose one of his most docile mares for her. After it was saddled, he assisted Ginny with mounting. Putting his hands on her waist, she put her foot in the stirrup and he lifted her with ease. As she was lifted, she still had to maneuver her other leg around the pummel and fix her skirts so they were decent. It all just seemed like too much work to be worth it.

  Whitmore mounted his horse like a professional and they were soon on their way. Ginny had to use her crop to goad the horse forward, since she had trouble bumping its flanks with only one stirruped foot. She also didn't want to hit the horse too hard to send it galloping away. The two kept the leisurely pace Whitmore had promised. It turned out better for conversation.

  Whitmore pointed out many landmarks and commented on some of his tenant's lands. He showed her the lake and trout stream, the mill, the outskirts of the closest village called Headley. Soon they were amongst nothing but the wilderness, so she finally had time to ask questions.

  “So, what kind of trouble did you and Lord Clarendon get into?”

  He laughed out loud, a boisterous sound that would make anyone smile. “I had hoped you would forget to ask me that, Miss Hamilton. It appears there is nothing amiss with your memory.”

  “Like an elephant. Now, stop stalling and start spilling.”

  Quirking his eyebrow, he said, “You do have the strangest vocabulary sometimes.”

  “And you have a strangest tendency to stall.”

  “Right you are.” He seemed to think about what stories he could tell her and those he definitely could not. The story about how they both pursued the milliner's daughter, only to find out later that they not only both caught her, but did so in the same day, seemed wholly inappropriate. He settled on a tale from when they first met, where they stole their Latin teacher's discipline stick and framed a rather tiresome schoolmate with the crime.

  His face was so animated in the telling of the tale, Ginny could feel his enthusiasm. She laughed out loud at his description of the boy's face upon finding the stick in his possession at the same time their teacher found it.

  “That is truly dreadful. Whatever happened to that poor boy?” she asked.

  “Oh, he is married, with a dozen children and keeps his mistress well occupied.” As the words left his mouth, he realized his mistake. How had it come that he forgot who he was with and instead treated a young, unmarried lady as if she were one of his male friends?

  Before he could apologize, Ginny replied, “A dozen children and a mistress... one would wonder when the poor man sleeps.” Laughing at her own joke, she noticed that Whitmore looked appalled. Her laughter died and her smile faded. It was then that she realized what they had both said and knew the reason for his distress.

  “I beg your pardon, Miss Hamilton. That was extremely inappropriate. I apologize for my remark.”

  Stopping her horse, which at their speed wasn't that difficult, Ginny took a deep breath. By the time Whitmore noticed and turned his horse around to face her, she looked extremely vexed. Before he could say another word, she said, “Do I look so fragile, sir, that any words you say to me would have some kind of power to... disturb me?”

  Whitmore bunched up his eyebrows and looked thoroughly confused. “It was inappropriate. I was only apologizing.”

  “Was my remark any less inappropriate?” She took a deep breath and tried to phrase her comment so he would understand. “I am not so sheltered that I don't know what happens between men and women. I'm not asking to have a conversation with you proving this knowledge, but why must everyone apologize all the time for being honest. You answered my question. You did not reveal the forbidden secrets of the universe. I grow weary of having to pretend all the time.”

  Ginny felt like she'd reached her limit of “things she could not say.” Judging by the look on poor Lord Whitmore's face, she was really tripping the light fantastic on his gentlemanly sensibilities. He had spent years learning all the rules, only to have her come along and burn the rulebook. It was just as well... she knew they had no destiny together, so couldn't she have one man she could talk to without having to worry that she'd crossed some invisible line?

  His scrutiny was almost painful, it looked as if he battled with whether to chastise her or kiss her, which was exactly the feelings he was warring with at that moment. Whitmore had never socialized with innocents, only married or widowed women. He could innocently flirt if necessary, but was more often used to the same kind of honestly that she requested with only men or married women.

  “You must realize that any discussions we have could only be limited to certain topics.”

  “When we are around others. But when we are alone, can we just see where the conversation takes us. Do I have to always worry that the wrong word will have you angry and chastising me. Can't we just be friends?”

  “Are you so open with your female friends?”

  “Yes. I don't go around revealing deep, dark secrets, but I do open up and share things with my friends. I don't think you give me much credit, Lord Whi
tmore.”

  He hadn't even thought of it that way. As far as he was concerned, he gave her a lot of credit. Credit for being intelligent, thoughtful and insightful. “I... I can try, Miss Hamilton. I cannot promise anything. I have had too many years of training to be able to completely let it go.”

  “Thank you. Now that we have that decided, can you please call me Bethany?”

  Whitmore groaned. This was proving harder than he realized. “I do not think that would be appropriate.” Once again, as the words came out of his mouth, her expression changed completely. Where she had finally relaxed, she began to tense up again.

  “I will try... Bethany.” He knew he should stop this behavior and bring them back to a more correct, distant relationship, but he couldn't. The truth was, he enjoyed her company too much to give it up. He just started to relax when she spoke again.

  “And may I call you by your first name?”

  By this time, he was almost used to her strange requests. “Colin. My given name is Colin.”

  “Thank you, Colin. I promise not to call you Colin unless we're alone.” She said it as if that made it better. He began to worry that maybe she did have hopes of a personal attachment with him. Bethany soon put those fears to rest. “Now, how is it you can travel to the Continent when Napoleon is running around like a crazy man?”

  Would she ever cease to surprise him? He smiled and answered her questions. Even asked her about her personal life and where she grew up. All in all, the conversation wasn't terribly inappropriate, but much more than about the weather.

  On their way back to the house, he asked her something that he'd been wondering about. “I notice you thank the servants a great deal. Why is that? Why do you thank them for doing what they are supposed to do?”

  Taking a deep breath and knowing that Colin just opened a Pandora's box that would never again be closed, she said, “Because they do me a service. A service for which I'm appreciative. It's only right to say thank you.”