No matter. She must return to the garden and inform Lord Manderbey that her idea had not produced a result.
Winsome pulled on the door. Then she pulled again. It was locked.
*
Lord Landry hadbeen ginning himself up all night to say the words. The words were in his mind but he could not get them out. How did other gentlemen do it? How did they ask if a lady would wed them? And then, if a person could choke out the words, what next? Would they just stand there, staring until the lady said something? And what if she said yes? What was expected then? Should he say thank you? Or worse, what if she said no? Should he say thank you anyway?
How was it possible that there was not a book written about this?
He had escorted Lady Edith round the garden paths, collecting theclues. He could not say they made much progress, the only clue they’d been able to solve was another word for building, which they thought must be edifice.
He must have looked very white over his nervousness, as twice Lady Edith had inquired if he were sick. He’d denied it, though he felt rather sick. It was only getting worse though, as the more he thought, the more questions occurred to him. If she said yes, was he meant to kiss her? On her face?
Finally, as they were puzzling over a clue that read “the beginning of an Idea,” his nerves reached a fever pitch. There was a violent rumbling in his stomach that signaled events to come. He excused himself to visit…well he’d not had to spell out where he was going.
Lady Edith nodded knowingly and speculated that he’d eaten something bad. Not a thing to be ashamed of, as it was a very common thing.
He gratefully grabbed at the excuse and had hurried inside. In truth, his stomach was in a total revolt, as it often did when he was wracked with nerves. He found Sir Jonathan’s billiards room and, mercifully, spotted the closed-off curtain that said a chamber pot was within reach.
Landry had shut the billiards room door behind him, hoping there would be no other visitor looking to relieve himself. He found two chamber pots, both blessedly empty. His stomach was in such an attack that he might just fill them both. He ought not have eaten all those greasy potatoes at dinner!
As his insides disgorged, he heard the faint click coming from the direction of the door. He prayed nobody was coming and tried to quiet the ungodly noises emanating from his person. Blessedly, nobody came in. Or perhaps they had and were speedily apprised of the situation. It did not have the scent of roses, after all.
He would stay where he was until his bowels were entirely empty. He did not dare return to Lady Edith and then experience anotherattack—he might not get back here in time!
How was he ever going to broach the subject of marriage? How was he ever going to ask when just thinking about it sent him into disaster?
Now he’d left Lady Edith on her own while he was very stupidly attached to a chamber pot for the foreseeable future.
*
Leland had waitedand waited for Lady Winsome to return. She’d been gone for over a half hour. Of course, it was conceivable that she’d encountered some lady friend and they were engaged in an extended conversation in the ladies’ retiring room. He understood women went in for such things, though neither he nor any of his friends had the least idea of what they talked about in there.
He had not known precisely what to do about it. It seemed as if she was gone for an inordinate amount of time. However, he could not insist that she hurry. What was he supposed to do? Knock on the door?
Now, though, the length of time began to seem downright odd. Could something have happened? Could there be something wrong? Perhaps Lady Winsome had been taken ill.
That might make sense. Perhaps she’d suggested checking the slate in the mirror as a way to delicately excuse herself.
He glanced over at the dowager and the duke seated on a bench in the corner of the garden. They seemed to be entertaining themselves well enough.
He strode over. “Grandmama, Lady Winsome went to the ladies’ retiring room some time ago. I wonder if you might go and see if she requires any assistance.”
“Trying to separate me from my wine, are you?” the dowager asked.
“That would only be an added benefit,” he said drily.
“You see the way he speaks to me?” the dowager said, laughing.
“That’s a young buck for you,” the duke said, equally amused.
“What think you, Duke?” the dowager asked. “Should I go and check on your daughter?”
“Yes, why not? I had not expected any of my other daughters to turn up, but if they have, I can assure you those girls can talk until the sun comes up.”
Leland began to think possibly he was overreacting. It was likely that Lady Winsome had encountered a sister and they’d lost track of time.
Still, it would not hurt to check. He had an uneasy feeling he could not quite pin down.
“Hold my wine,” the dowager ordered, handing him her glass. “I’ll go see what’s holding her up in there.”
