Octavia snorted in surprise, spewing drops of tea. “You certainly have done that!”
Gwen blushed. She could feel the heat and guessed her ears were a deep red. After a few minutes, when the heat had subsided, she continued.
“I do not know what comes next. It is our duty to sire an heir, but I have been thinking that perhaps I should remain here in Papa’s home. Allow Aidan his freedom. Perhaps he could visit me here until we confirm that I am increasing and then he can move out.”
Octavia shook her head. “He’ll not agree to that, I tell you. Lord Abbott is in love with you.”
It was Gwen’s turn to snort. One would think that it was her lady’s maid who liked to read. She certainly had the imagination of someone who did.
“I refuse to contemplate things that will make me sad. It is time to be realistic.”
Octavia slapped the bench with her open palm. “I’m being realistic. It’s possible that Lord Abbott had reasons for attending the ball that night that had to do with Mr. Smythe, but there was no reason for him to kiss you … unless he wanted to.”
Gwen scowled. “Perhaps he needed to gain access to our home! Perhaps he decided the most expedient method to investigate Papa was to ruin his only daughter!”
Octavia swallowed down her tea and put the cup and saucer down with a thunk on the bench. “You must fight for your happiness, Gwendolyn Smythe!”
“If my husband is so distressed by our rift, why did he make one frail attempt to talk to me several hours ago? He knocked at my door for only a few minutes. Buttercup ismore persistent at scratching to be let in than he was in attempting a reconciliation. He probably found something to do this evening while I sit here grieving over moonbeams and poetry!”
Octavia smacked her hand down again, causing the cup and saucer to jump and clatter. “Mr. Smythe’s not up here either, but you don’t complain about that!”
“My father is likely defending himself against unjust murder accusations, so he hardly has the time to visit! He will speak with me when he has the opportunity. His regard is far more resilient.”
They glared at each other across the room until Buttercup stood up from where she had been lying in the middle of the floor. The dog raced over to the window and began to jump and bark at the night, her short tail rigid.
“What on earth is she up to?” Gwen’s question was almost impossible to hear when Buttercup increased the volume to snarl and bark even louder.
Octavia and Gwen looked at each other in consternation, their earlier argument forgotten as the little dog turned into a slavering guard dog, trembling with frenzied excitement.
Aidan growled in frustration.“The ladder will not remain in place! The ground is far too muddy! See what it has done to my boots?”
Smythe was panting from his exertions. “Burn my buttons!”
The Earl of Saunton started laughing hard, bending over in fits of glee. “Did I tell you about how my brother attempted something like this to win his wife’s hand last year?”
Filminster started chuckling in response. “I was there! We were stuck in the mud for nigh a week.”
Aidan scowled at the offending device, gesticulating at the other men to hush. “Keep your voices down! Buttercup is yapping something fierce up there. Gwen will discover us.”
Halmesbury sighed, his back against the wall while he observed the antics. “I think we must revisit this plan. Your wife deserves our support, but this …” Halmesbury waved his hand in the direction of the wet ground at the foot of the ladder. “This is not going to work.”
Aidan straightened up. “Agreed.” He released the ladder which thunked against the side of the house. “Let us go back inside and rethink this before we alert Gwen to what we are up to.”
The men filed back up the steps to the terrace, wiping their boots carefully to enter Smythe’s office. Aidan had had a vague notion of climbing up to Gwen’s window to recite the lines of Romeo, but it had not felt quite right and the mud had put the flimsy idea to its permanent rest.
Taking their seats, they went over the details of the plan once more. Several suggestions were offered, but they did not seem fitting to Aidan. He shook his head, dismissing them each in turn while raking through his mind for an idea. Any idea.
Just as suddenly asshe had begun, Buttercup stopped mid-bark. Huffing in smug victory as if she had conquered a great villain, the little dog walked back to her spot on the rug and flopped down. Her eyes found Gwen as she settled her long jaw back onto her paw and stared.
Octavia and Gwen frowned at each other, neither offering any explanation for the strange behavior. The lady’smaid shrugged and picked up the threads of their disrupted conversation. “I think you should allow Lord Abbott to explain the situation to you so you can sort this muddle out.”
“And I think that my husband has a strong sense of obligation. He will convince me of the veracity of his feelings just to make me feel better. All the while resenting this marriage he tangled himself in only to find that Papa was not the murderer he sought. He made a huge error in judgment, and over time he can only grow to hate me for this trap he put himself in.”
Octavia shot up to pace the room. “Confound it! Why can’t you believe he might have genuine regard for you, you obstinate girl?”
Gwen shoved down the pain that threatened to boil over and drown her in a vat of tears if she allowed herself to consider the hopes she had had for their future. “There is no evidence to support that theory!”
“What of passion I saw in his eyes? What of the sweet words he spoke?”
