That was what Cressida was counting on. She kissed her mother on the cheek. “Thank you. I’ll show Papa he can trust me to know what I want.”
Three-quarters of an hour later, as she watched her maid dressing her hair, a light knock came on the door and Emily entered the chamber wreathed in smiles. “I wanted to be the first to tell you! Hector has landed in England. He has some business to attend to, but he hopes to be in Town by the end of the week.”
Cressida started to jump up, but her maid placed a restraining hand on her shoulder. “That is wonderful! You’ll be able to wed soon!”
“Yes.” Her friend clasped her hands together. “Oh, he also said he’s bringing something for you!”
“Probably some of that pretty silk.” She frowned. “I wonder that Papa hadn’t heard from him.”
“If he’s anything like my father”—Emily cast her gaze to the ceiling—“the letter is lying on his desk unopened.”
“He has been gone all day.” Cressida’s maid finished fixing the ribbon to her hair and she rose. “Did you come over just to tell me you heard from Hector?”
“Not at all.” Emily looked bemused. “Your father invited us to dine with you. Did he not tell you?”
“As I said, he’s not been here.” Cressida pulled a face, funning. “I only wonder if he told Mama.”
“Well!” Her friend placed her hands on her hips. “How awkward. Gentlemen can be truly absent-minded. I do hope your brother is not similarly afflicted.”
Cressida took her shawl from her maid. “I dare say if he is, he won’t be for long once he is married to you.”
“Indeed.” Emily’s voice softened and a gentle light came into her eyes. “I shall be so glad to see him.”
“As will we all.” Cressida stifled a sigh. If only she loved someone as much as Emily loved Hector, and was loved in return. Even if Cressida didn’t love Lord Stanstead, he would be very easy to fall in love with.
CHAPTER EIGHT
At eleven the following morning, Vivian closed the book she had been attempting, not very successfully, to read. Against all her desires, her mind strayed from the romantic hero to Lord Stanstead. If only romances came true.
Laying the book aside, she glanced down at her cat. “Surely someone must be up by now.”
Gisila slowly blinked her eyes once.
“I do wish you were a bit more communicative.” That is what she got for having a silent cat. Bending down, Vivian stroked the soft, gray feline. “If nothing else, I’ll enjoy the change of scenery.” She stuck her feet into her slippers, left her chambers, and headed for the morning room. Maybe it was the lack of industry that had her feeling blue deviled. By this time of day, she would normally have completed a full schedule of meetings, and who knew what else. Being in the dower house had given her back the sense of competence she had lost while married to Edgar. She gave herself a little shake. That must be it, and when she had her own estate, she would be back to her usual good spirits.
Voices and laughter drifted down the corridor from the back of the house. Aha, her cousin and friend must finally be about.
When she ambled through the open door, Silvia was in the process of giggling over a note. “Have you ever heard of anything so absurd?”
Clara shook her head and had a self-satisfied expression. “I told you you would be a success.”
The room was filled with bouquets, posies, notes, and what looked like paper fans with verse written on them. “I’d say Clara was right. You certainly made an impression.”
“Oh, Vivian, listen to this. Lord Oliver sent it. After what I said to him, I thought he would hate me.
“‘Rose that you are, stab me no more with your thorns. I was but a fool who thinks himself wise. Please dance with me again and save me from my demise.’”
“Very droll.” Vivian grinned. “Shall you stand up with him?”
“Yes. I believe I will give him another chance.” Her friend jumped up. “We were going to send for you. I’ve never known you to sleep so late.”
“I didn’t. I was waiting for the two of you.”
Silvia plucked a card from an exquisite arrangement of pale pink roses. “This is for you.”
She handed the card to Vivian. The writing was strong, masculine, yet neat, unlike the scribbling of her father and brothers. Imbedded in the wax seal was a crest. Who would have sent her such lovely flowers?
“Open it.” Silvia practically bounced with excitement.
