If he even shows interest in you it will simply be a game, a game to prove he’s your master rather than your debtor. Have some pride!
That worked better to bring her to her senses. She glanced in the mirror to be sure she was her usual cool and elegant self. Her simple morning gown was white with a narrow, pale blue stripe. A fichu ensured modesty, and matched the white cotton cap tied beneath her chin with pale blue ribbon. She looked a perfect, respectable widow, and thus armored, went down to greet her guest.
She almost collided with Natalie rushing toward the stairs.
“I just wanted to see,” the girl whispered, flashing her dimples. “I looked him up in the library this morning. He was mentioned in dispatchesfour times! He must be very brave.”
“Yes, I believe so.” Instinct made Maria speak coolly even though she knew she should be acting besotted. She looked her sixteen-year-old “niece” over and reset a hairpin to hold up escaping curls. “Since you’re presentable, why not come down and be properly introduced?”
Excited delight lit up Natalie’s face. She was not one to hide emotions. Every one showed, and usually at twice normal intensity.
Being short with mousy hair, Natalie couldn’t claim beauty, but she had enough vivacity and character to become a raging success when Maria let her loose on the world. She was sixteen now. Next year there would be no putting it off. Such a daunting responsibility.
She heard the door below open, and voices, and continued down, aware of Natalie by her side as if excitement gave off noise. Pray heaven she wasn’t as audible. At the bend in the stairs, where the hall came into view, she paused.
He was wearing a brown jacket and buff breeches that could be the same ones he’d worn two days ago, but now they wereneat. He looked so perfectly comfortable in them that she felt she was seeing him for the first time. She was caught by the fluid grace in the way he moved, and the effortlessly genuine smile he tossed as reward to the footman who had carried in his trunk.
Such a beautiful young man . . .
She collected herself and moved on, reaching the bottom of the stairs, then crossing the hall, hand extended. “Lord Vandeimen, welcome to my home.”
He turned, still smiling, and bowed over it. “It was kind of you to invite me, Mrs. Celestin.”
His eyes flickered to her side, and she said, “My niece, my lord. Natalie Florence.”
He bowed, and Natalie dropped a curtsy, dimples deep with excitement. Oh Lord, Maria thought, don’t let her fall into an infatuation with him. I can’t cope with that on top of everything else.
Then she realized he was chatting with Natalie in a very easy way, and if he had dimples they might be showing, too.
Oh Lord, don’t let him fall in love with Natalie!
But then, like a cold wind, she realized it was all too likely. They were going to bump into one another all the time. And what would be wrong with it? In a year Natalie would be ready for her season, and if Lord Vandeimen courted her then, it would be completely appropriate.
It would make her his secret stepmother!
See it that way, she sternly directed.
He turned back to her. “The notices have gone to the papers, my dear. I should perhaps seek a private moment for this, but why shouldn’t the world witness our happiness?” He produced a ring from his pocket and held out his hand.
A quick glance showed Natalie standing there, hands clasped in vicarious ecstasy, showing no sign of jealousy. Yet.
Maria hadn’t anticipated this. She hastily twisted off the rings Maurice had given her, and held out her hand. He pushed the new ring onto her finger—with a little difficulty.
He gave her a rueful glance. “I estimated it for the jeweler, but I think it will have to be stretched a little.”
“Easy enough.” She looked at the ring, which was surprisingly modest. The small diamond in the center was surrounded by pearls. She didn’t mind the simplicity, but she’d expected a pretentious statement. Perhaps she’d been remembering Maurice. The ring she’d just taken off held a very large blue diamond.
“The smaller stones were rubies but I had them changed,” Vandeimen said. “Since you have a taste for pale colors.”
She hadn’t liked Maurice’s ring, which had been tastelessly ostentatious, but she didn’t much care for this one either. Not because of the value, but because it was insipid. Was that how he saw her?
She looked at him in buff and brown, and at Natalie in a boldly striped dress with a sky-blue sash.
Perhaps it was time to change. But not for the next six weeks. For this business, insipid was good. Very good.
“It’s lovely,” she said. “Now, let me show you the house and your room, my lord.”
She shooed Natalie back to her lessons—she wanted no fledgling love affair for the next six weeks, at least—and led him upstairs.
